


Half-Light

by Onononon



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 128,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24834787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onononon/pseuds/Onononon
Summary: So this is another try on my take of a gay re-imagining of Twilight. With all the same characters as the original book. Except instead of Edward there is Edythe and instead of Jacob there is Jules. Plus I plan to add a few twist here and there when I can. I just really love this story and after seeing the inspiration of Life and Death flip flopping the genders of everyone and still having practically the same story I just thought that I would recreate the story into something else something that I personal relate too a bit more. And again of course some stuff I always thought would have been cool to happen.
Relationships: Edythe Cullen/Bella Swan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. PREFACE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the preface from Life and Death so here is my reference to that. I felt it made more sense than using the one from the original Twilight book.

I’d never given much thought to how I would die- though I’d had enough in the last few months- but even if I had, I wouldn’t have imagined it like this.

I stared across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and she looked pleasantly back at me.

At least it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.

I knew that if I’d never gone to Forks, I wouldn’t be about to die now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it’s not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

The hunter smiled in a friendly way as she sauntered forward to kill me.


	2. FIRST SIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella Swan moves to Forks and meets the Cullen's and a mysterious Edythe Cullen.

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt — sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself— an action that I took with great horror. I detested Forks.

I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city.

"Bella," my mom said to me — the last of a thousand times — before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

My mom looks like me, except with short hair and laugh lines. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still…

"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want — I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she was gone. It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.

Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car.

But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. I knew he was more than a little confused by my decision — like my mother before me, I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen — just unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.

Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How's Renée?"

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face. I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were strapped in.

"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said "good car for you" as opposed to just "good  
car."

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.

"No."

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.

That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from my memory.

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years old, really."

I hoped he didn't think so little of me as to believe I would give up that easily. "When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ch — Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic…"

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

The thing, I thought to myself… it had possibilities — as a nickname, at the very least.

"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise on.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So I was looking straight ahead as I responded.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No need to add that my being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn't need to suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth —or engine.

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.

We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for Conversation. We stared out the windows in silence.

It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves. It was too green — an alien planet.

Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had — the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new — well, new to me — truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged — the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just that much less dreadful.

I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again. It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard.

The room was familiar; it had been belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window — these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie.

I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.

One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn't in the mood to go on a real crying jag. I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to think about the coming morning.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven — now fifty-eight — students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.

Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond — a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps — all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself — and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty — it was very clear, almost translucent looking — but it all depended on color. I had no color here.

Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here?

I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning. I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a cage.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor.

Nothing was changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at — I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here. It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket — which had the feel of a biohazard suit — and headed out into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door. Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show roe.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped,like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could. When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name — not an encouraging response — and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," I told him.

"You don't look very tan."

"My mother is part albino."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix.

A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together."

He sounded hopeful.

I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat.

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch.

She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn't try to keep up.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room. It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room.

There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the two boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. 

The three girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. The last girl, was similar in size, with hair somewhere between red and brown, but different than either, kind of metallic somehow, a bronze color. She looked younger than the other two, who could have been in college, easy.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. But all this is not why I couldn't look away. I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired one.

They were all looking away — away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray — unopened soda, unbitten apple — and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.

"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten.

As she looked up to see who I meant — though already knowing, probably, from my tone- suddenly she looked at her, the girl with the bronze hair. She looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then her dark eyes flickered to mine.

She looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, her face held nothing of interest- it was as if she had called her name, and she'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.

"That's Edythe and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful girl, who was looking at her tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with her fingers. Her mouth was moving very quickly, her perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt she was speaking quietly to them.

Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here — small town names? I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were two girls named Jessica in my History class back home.

"They are… very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all together though — Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related…"

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins — the blondes — and they're foster children."

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."

"That's really kind of nice — for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness.

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed them on one of my summers here.

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.

As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullen kids, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in her expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that her glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the girl with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye, and she was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today- she had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.

"That's Edythe Cullen. She's gorgeous, of course she but she's "to cool" for everyone around her. She only talks to her family." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when she'd turned her down as a friend.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at her again. Her face was turned away, but I thought her cheek appeared lifted, as if she were smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful —even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edythe didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edythe Cullen by her unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching her surreptitiously. Just as I passed, she suddenly went rigid in her seat. She stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face — it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table.

The girl sitting there giggled.

I'd noticed that her eyes were black — coal black.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by her, bewildered by the antagonistic stare she'd given me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw her posture change from the corner of my eye. She was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of her chair and averting her face like she smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher. Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.

I couldn't stop myself fro shooting the occasional glance at the strange girl next to me. Throughout the entire class, she never relaxed her stiff position on the edge of her chair, sitting as far from me as possible, with her hair hiding most of her face. Her hand was clenched into a fist on top of her left thigh, tendons standing out under her pale skin. This, too, she never relaxed. She had the sleeves of her white shirt sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and her forearm flexed with surprisingly hard muscle beneath her pale skin. I couldn't help but notice how perfect that skin was. Not on freckle, not one scar.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for her tight fist to loosen? It never did; she continued to sit so still it looked like she wasn't breathing. What was wrong with her? Was this her normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought. It couldn't have anything to do with me. She didn't know me from Adam.

I peeked up at her one more time, and regretted it. She was glaring down at me again, her black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from her, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edythe Cullen was out of her seat. She moved like a dancer, every perfect line of her slim body in harmony with all the others, her back to me, and she was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after her. She was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad.

"Bella," I corrected him, with a smile.

"I'm Mike."

"Hi, Mike."

"Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer — he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edythe Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen her act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Edythe Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.

"Was that the girl I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.

"Yes," he said. "She looked like she was in pain or something."

"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to her."

"She's a weird girl." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring.

But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of RE. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained— and inflicted — playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself.

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out. 

Edythe Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again the bronze hair. She didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

She was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. She was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time-any other time.

I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on her face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edythe Cullen's back stiffened, and she turned slowly to glare at me — her face was absurdly beautiful — with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. She turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then," she said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And she turned on her heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip.

"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.

"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life.

I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting tears the whole way there.


	3. OPEN BOOK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella and Edythe finally interact for the first time. Leaving Bella to question everything.

The next day was better… and worse.

It was better because it wasn't raining yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day. Mike came to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with Chess Club Eric glaring at him all the while; that was nattering. People didn't look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people whose names and faces I now remembered. I began to feel like I was treading water, instead of drowning in it.

It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with the wind echoing around the house. It was worse because Mr. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn't raised and I had the wrong answer. It was miserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn't cringe out of the way of the ball, I hit my teammate in the head with it. And it was worse because Edythe Cullen wasn't in school at all.

All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing her bizarre glares. Part of me wanted to confront her and demand to know what her problem was. While I was lying sleepless in my bed, I even imagined what I would say. But I knew myself too well to think I would really have the guts to do it. I made the Cowardly Lion look like the terminator.

But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica — trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the place for her, and failing entirely — I saw that her four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and she was not with them.

Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried to listen to their easy chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting nervously for the moment she would arrive. I hoped that she would simply ignore me when she came, and prove my suspicions false.

She didn't come, and as time passed I grew more and more tense.

I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, she still hadn't showed. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breath at the door, but Edythe Cullen wasn't there, either. I exhaled and went to my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk till the bell rang. Then he smiled at me wistfully and went to sit by a girl with braces and a bad perm. It looked like I was going to have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn't be easy. In a town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone else, diplomacy was essential. I had never been enormously tactful; I had no practice dealing with overly friendly boys.

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Edythe was absent. I told myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason she wasn't there. It was ridiculous, and egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly. It was impossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it was true.

When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of my cheeks from the volleyball incident, I changed quickly back into my jeans and navy blue sweater. I hurried from the girls' locker room, pleased to find that I had successfully evaded my retriever friend for the moment. I walked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students. I got in my truck and dug through my bag to make sure I had what I needed.

Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and bacon. So I requested that I be assigned kitchen detail for the duration of my stay. He was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall. I also found out that he had no food in the house. So I had my shopping list and the cash from the jar in the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY, and I was on my way to the Thriftway.

I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble was coming from someone else's car, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. It was the shiny new Volvo. Of course. I hadn't noticed their clothes before — I'd been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that I looked, it was obvious that they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good looks, the style with which they carried themselves, they could have worn dishrags and pulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have both looks and money. But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. It didn't look as if it bought them any acceptance here.

No, I didn't fully believe that. The isolation must be their desire; I couldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree of beauty.

They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was free of the school grounds.

The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt normal. I did the shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to remind me where I was.

When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever I could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn't mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge. When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp hair up into a pony-tail, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I had three messages. 

"Bella," my mom wrote…

Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but I can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I  
put it? Phil says hi. 

Mom.

I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.

"Bella," she wrote…

Why haven't you e-mailed me yet? What are you waiting for? 

Mom.

The last was from this morning.

Isabella,

If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie.

I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun.

Mom.

Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash.

Bella.

I sent that, and began again.

Mom, 

Everything is great. Of course it's raining. I was waiting for something to write about. School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. I met some nice kids who sit by me at lunch. You're blouse is at the  
dry cleaners. You were supposed to pick it up last Friday.

Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me.

I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to check my e-mail every five minutes.

Relax, breathe. I love you. 

Bella.

I had decided to read Wuthering Heights — the novel we were currently studying in English — yet again for the fun of it, and that's what I was doing when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.

"Bella?" my father called out when he heard me on the stairs.

Who else? I thought to myself.

"Hey, Dad, welcome home."

"Thanks." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I bustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When I came here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.

"What's for dinner?" he asked warily. My mother was an imaginative cook, and her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, and sad, that he seemed to remember that far back.

"Steak and potatoes," I answered, and he looked relieved.

He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked. We were both more comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table.

I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room.

"Smells good, Bell."

"Thanks."

We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of us was bothered by the quiet. In some ways, we were well suited for living together.

"So, how did you like school? Have you made any friends?" he asked as he was taking seconds.

"Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there's this boy,

Mike, who's very friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice." With one outstanding exception.

"That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid — nice family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here."

"Do you know the Cullen family?" I asked hesitantly.

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man."

"They… the kids… are a little different. They don't seem to fit in very well at school." Charlie surprised me by looking angry.

"People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here," he continued, getting louder. "We're lucky to have him — lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature — I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should —camping trips every other weekend… Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Charlie make. He must feel strongly about whatever people were saying.

I backpedaled. "They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they kept to themselves. They're all very attractive," I added, trying to be more complimentary.

"You should see the doctor," Charlie said, laughing. "It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around." We lapsed back into silence as we finished eating. He cleared the table while I started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after I finished washing the dishes by hand — no dishwasher — I went upstairs unwillingly to work on my math homework. I could feel a tradition in the making.

That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their way.

Edythe Cullen didn't come back to school.

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without her. Then I could relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry.

By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Edythe would be there. For all I knew, she had dropped out of school. I tried not to think about her, but I couldn't totally suppress the worry that I was responsible for her continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed.

My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unused to spending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. I cleaned the house, got ahead on my homework, and wrote my mom more bogusly cheerful e-mail. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn't bother to get a card; I would have to make a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got… and shuddered at the thought.

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well.

People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't know all their names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder this morning, but happily not raining. In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was straightforward, very easy.

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point. More comfortable than I had ever expected to feel here.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at my cheeks, my nose.

"Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing."

I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face.

"Ew." Snow. There went my good day.

He looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?"

"No. That means it's too cold for rain." Obviously. "Besides, I thought it was supposed to come down in flakes — you know, each one unique and all that. These just look like the ends of Q-tips."

"Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" he asked incredulously.

"Sure I have." I paused. "On TV."

Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us — in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike appatently had the same notion. He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Once people start throwing wet stuff, I go inside."

He just nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure.

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth shut. Sure, it was drier than rain — until it melted in your socks.

I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mush balls were flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, but something in my expression kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself.

Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spike in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward that table in the corner out of habit. And then I froze where I stood. There were five people at the table Jessica pulled on my arm.

"Hello? Bella? What do you want?"

I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.

"What's with Bella?" Mike asked Jessica.

"Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up to the end of the line.

"Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked.

"Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor.

I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes on my feet.

I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Mike asked, with unnecessary concern, how I was feeling.

I told him it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up and escape to the nurse's office for the next hour.

Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away.

I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table. If she was glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I was.

I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them were looking this way. I lifted my head a little.

They were laughing. Edythe, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow.

Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else — only they looked more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us.

But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. I examined Edythe the most carefully. Her skin was less pale, I decided — flushed from the snow fight maybe — the circles under hier eyes much less noticeable. But there was something more. I pondered, staring, trying to isolate the change.

"Bella, what are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following my stare.

At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine.

I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that she didn't look harsh or unfriendly as she had the last time I'd seen her. She looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way.

"Edythe Cullen is staring at you," Jessica giggled in my ear.

"She doesn't look angry, does she?" I couldn't help asking.

"No," she said, sounding confused by my question. "Should she be?"

"I don't think she likes me," I confided. I still felt queasy. I put my head down on my arm.

"The Cullens don't like anybody… well, they don't notice anybody enough to like them. But she's still staring at you."

"Stop looking at her," I hissed.

She snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure that she did, contemplating violence if she resisted.

Mike interrupted us then — he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed enthusiastically. The way she looked at Mike left little doubt that she would be up for anything he suggested. I kept silent. I would have to hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared.

For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. I decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Since she didn't look angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach did frightened little flips at the thought of sitting next to her again.

I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual — he seemed to be a popular target for the snowball snipers — but when we went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight home after Gym.

Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still empty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook.

I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing.

"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.

I looked up, shocked that she was speaking to me. She was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but her chair was angled toward me. Her hair was dripping wet, tangled- even so, she looked like she'd just finished shooting a commercial. Her perfect face was friendly, open, a slight smile on her full, pink lips. But her long eyes were careful.

"My name is Edythe Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week.

You must be Bella Swan."

My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? She was perfectly polite now. I had to speak; he was waiting. But I couldn't think of anything conventional to say.

"H-how do you know my name?" I stammered.

She laughed a soft, enchanting laugh.

"Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive."

I grimaced. I knew it was something like that.

"No," I persisted stupidly. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?"

She seemed confused. "Do you prefer Isabella?"

"No, I like Bella," I said. "But I think Charlie — I mean my dad — must call me Isabella behind my back — that's what everyone here seems to know me as," I tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron.

"Oh." She let it drop. I looked away awkwardly.

Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right.

"Get started," he commanded.

"Ladies first, partner?" Edythe asked. I looked up to see her smiling a dimpled smile so perfect that I could only stare at her like a fool.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Uh, sure, go ahead," I sputtered.

I saw her eyes flash to the splotches blooming across my cheeks. Why couldn't my blood just stay in my veins where it belonged?

She looked away sharply, yanking the microscope to her side of the table.

She studied the first slide for a quarter of a second- maybe less.

"Prophase."

She switched out the slide for the next, then paused and looked up at me.

"Or did you want to check?" she challenged.

"Uh, no, I'm good," I said.

She wrote the word Prophase neatly on the top line of our worksheet. Even her handwriting was perfect, liked she'd taken classes in penmanship or something? Did anyone still do that?

She barely glanced through the microscope at the second slide, then wrote Anaphase on the next line, looping her A like it was calligraphy, like she was addressing a wedding invitation. I'd had to do the invitations for my mom's wedding. I'd printed the labels in a fancy script font that didn't look anything as elegant as Edythe's handwriting.

She moved the next slide into place, while I took advantage of her diverted attention to stare. So close up, you'd think I'd be able to see something- a hint of a pimple, a stray eyebrow hair, a pore, something- wrong with her. But there was nothing.

Suddenly her head flipped up, eyes to the front of the class, just before Mr. Banner called out, "Miss Cullen?"

"Yes, Mr. Banner?" Edythe slid the microscope toward me as she spoke.

"Perhaps you should let Ms. Swan have an opportunity to learn?"

"Of course, Mr. Banner."

Edythe turned and gave me a well, go ahead then look.

I bent down to look through the eyepiece. I could sense she was watching- only fair, considering how I'd been ogling her- but it made me feel awkward, like just inclining my head was a clumsy move.

At least the slide wasn't difficult.

"Metaphase," I said.

"Do you mind if I look?" she asked as I started to remove the slide. Her hand caught mine, to stop me, as she was speaking. Her fingers were ice cold, like she'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When she touched me, it stung my hand like a low-voltage electric shock.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, quickly pulling her hand back, though she continued to reach for the microscope. I watched her, a little dazed, as she examined the slide for another tiny fraction of a second.

"Metaphase," she agreed, then slid the microscope back to me.

I tried to exchange slides, but I struggled with it and I ended up dropping both. One fell on the table and the other over the edge, but Edythe caught it before it could hit the ground.

"Ugh," I exhaled, mortified. "Sorry."

"Well, the last is no mystery, regardless," she said. Her tone was right on the edge of laughter. Butt of the joke again.

Edythe beautifully wrote the words Metaphase and Telophase onto the last two lines of the worksheet.

We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides again and again, and another pair had their book open under the table.

Which left me with nothing to do but try not to look at her... unsuccessfully. I glanced down, and she was staring at me, that same strange look of frustration in her eyes. Suddenly I identified the elusive difference in her face.

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out.

She seemed puzzled by my apropos-of-nothing question. "No."

"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

She shrugged, and looked away.

In fact, I knew there was something different. I had not forgotten one detail of that first time she'd glared at me like she wanted me dead. I could still see the flat black color of her eyes- so jarring against the background of her pale skin. Today, her eyes were a completely different color: a strange gold, darker than butterscotch, but with the same warm tone. I didn't understand how that was possible, unless she was lying for some reason about the contacts. Or maybe Forks was making me crazy in the literal sense of the word.

I looked down. Her hands were clenched into fists again.

Mr. Banner came to our table then, looking over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers.

"So, Edythe...," Mr. Banner began.

"Bella identified half of the slides," Edythe said before Mr. Banner could finish.

Mr. Banner looked at me now; her expression was skeptical.

"Have you done this lab before?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Not with onion root."

"Whitefish blastula?"

"Yeah."

Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced program in Phoenix?"

"Yes."

"Well," she said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." She mumbled something else I couldn't hear as she walked away. After she left, I started doodling on my notebook again

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Edythe asked. I had the feeling that she was forcing herself to make small talk with me. Paranoia swept over me again. It was like she had heard my conversation with Jessica at lunch and was trying to prove me wrong.

"Not really," I answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normal like everyone else. I was still trying to dislodge the stupid feeling of suspicion, and I couldn't concentrate.

"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question.

"Or the wet."

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," she mused.

"You have no idea," I muttered darkly.

She looked fascinated by what I said, for some reason I couldn't imagine. Her face was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any more than courtesy absolutely demanded.

"Why did you come here, then?"

No one had asked me that — not straight out like she did, demanding.

"It's… complicated."

"I think I can keep up," she pressed.

I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting her gaze. Her dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking.

"My mother got remarried," I said.

"That doesn't sound so complex," she disagreed, but she was suddenly sympathetic. "When did that happen?"

"Last September." My voice sounded sad, even to me.

"And you don't like him," Edythe surmised, her tone still kind.

"No, Phil is fine. Too young, maybe, but nice enough."

"Why didn't you stay with them?"

I couldn't fathom her interest, but he continued to stare at me with penetrating eyes, as if my dull life's story was somehow vitally important.

"Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living." I half-smiled.

"Have I heard of him?" she asked, smiling in response.

"Probably not. He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. He moves around a lot."

"And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." She said it as an assumption again, not a question.

My chin raised a fraction. "No, she did not send me here. I sent myself."

Her eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," she admitted, and she seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.

I sighed. Why was I explaining this to her? She continued to stare at me with obvious curiosity.

"She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy… so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie." My voice was glum by the time I finished.

"But now you're unhappy," she pointed out.

"And?" I challenged.

"That doesn't seem fair." she shrugged, but her eyes were still intense.

I laughed without humor. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair."

"I believe I have heard that somewhere before," she agreed dryly.

"So that's all," I insisted, wondering why she was still staring at me that way.

Her gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," she said slowly. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

I grimaced at her, resisting the impulse to stick out my tongue like a five-year-old, and looked away.

"Am I wrong?"

I tried to ignore her.

"I didn't think so," she murmured smugly.

"Why does it matter to you?" I asked, irritated. I kept my eyes away, watching the teacher make his rounds.

"That's a very good question," she muttered, so quietly that I wondered if she was talking to herself.

However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was the only answer I was going to get.

I sighed, scowling at the blackboard.

"Am I annoying you?" she asked. She sounded amused.

I glanced at her without thinking… and told the truth again. "Not exactly. I'm more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read — my mother always calls me her open book." I frowned.

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything that I'd said and she'd guessed, she sounded like she meant it.

"You must be a good reader then," I replied.

"Usually." She smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultrawhite teeth.

Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relief to listen. I was in disbelief that I'd just explained my dreary life to this bizarre, beautiful girl who may or may not despise me. She'd seemed engrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that she was leaning away from me again, her hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension.

I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated, with transparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seen without difficulty through the microscope. But my thoughts were unmanageable.

When the bell finally rang, Edythe rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as she had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after her in amazement.

Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. I imagined him with a wagging tail.

"That was awful," he groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Cullen for a partner."

"I didn't have any trouble with it," I said, stung by his assumption. I regretted the snub instantly. "I've done the lab before, though," I added before he could get his feelings hurt.

"Cullen seemed friendly enough today," he commented as we shrugged into our raincoats. He didn't seem pleased about it.

I tried to sound indifferent. "I wonder what was with her last Monday."

I couldn't concentrate on Mike's chatter as we walked to Gym, and RE. didn't do much to hold my attention, either. Mike was on my team today. He chivalrously covered my position as well as his own, so my woolgathering was only interrupted when it was my turn to serve; my team ducked warily out of the way every time I was up.

The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier when I was in the dry cab. I got the heater running, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. I unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the heater could dry it on the way home.

I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticed the still, white figure. Edythe Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on the brake in time. It was just the sort of car that my truck would make scrap metal of. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw her laughing.


	4. PHENOMENON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edythe Cullen saves Bella's life. But at what cost?

When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different.

It was the light. It was still the gray-green light of a cloudy day in the forest, but it was clearer somehow. I realized there was no fog veiling my window.

I jumped up to look outside, and then groaned in horror.

A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the road. But that wasn't the worst part. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid — coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. I had enough trouble not falling down when the ground was dry; it might be safer for me to go back to bed now.

Charlie had left for work before I got downstairs. In a lot of ways, living with Charlie was like having my own place, and I found myself reveling in the aloneness instead of being lonely.

I threw down a quick bowl of cereal and some orange juice from the carton. I felt excited to go to school, and that scared me. I knew it wasn't the stimulating learning environment I was anticipating, or seeing my new set of friends. If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get to school because I would see Edythe Cullen. And that was very, very stupid.

I should be avoiding him entirely after my brainless and embarrassing babbling yesterday. And I was suspicious of her; why should she lie about her eyes? I was still frightened of the hostility I sometimes felt emanating from her, and I was still tongue-tied whenever I pictured her perfect face. I was well aware that my league and her league were spheres that did not touch. So I shouldn't be at all anxious to see her today.

It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the icy brick driveway alive. I almost lost my balance when I finally got to the truck, but I managed to cling to the side mirror and save myself. Clearly, today was going to be nightmarish.

Driving to school, I distracted myself from my fear of falling and my unwanted speculations about Edythe Cullen by thinking about Mike and Eric, and the obvious difference in how teenage boys  
responded to me here. I was sure I looked exactly the same as I had in Phoenix. Maybe it was just that the boys back home had watched me pass slowly through all the awkward phases of adolescence and still thought of me that way. Perhaps it was because I was a novelty here, where novelties were few and far between. Possibly my crippling clumsiness was seen as endearing rather than pathetic, casting me as a damsel in distress. Whatever the reason, Mike's puppy dog behavior and Eric's apparent rivalry with him were disconcerting. I wasn't sure if I didn't prefer being ignored.

My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting to carve a path of destruction through Main Street.

When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I'd had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I walked to the back of the truck — carefully holding the side for support — to examine my tires.

There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Charlie had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. My throat suddenly felt tight. I wasn't used to being taken care of, and Charlie's unspoken concern caught me by surprise.

I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound.

It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I looked up, startled.

I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, the way it does in the movies.

Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once.

Edythe Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in horror. Her face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of my truck, and I was standing between them. I didn't even have time to close my eyes.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting. My head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I'd parked next to. But I didn't have a chance to notice anything else, because the van was still coming. It had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, was about to collide with me again.

A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voice was impossible not to recognize.

Two small, white hands shot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the small hands fitting providentially into a deep dent in the side of the van's body.

Then her hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a rag doll's, till they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt my ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt — exactly where, a second ago, my legs had been. It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the abrupt bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edythe Cullen's low, frantic voice in my ear.

"Bella? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." My voice sounded strange. I tried to sit up, and realized she was holding me against the side of her body in an iron grasp.

"Be careful," she warned as I struggled. "I think you hit your head pretty hard."

I became aware of a throbbing ache centered above my left ear.

"Ow," I said, surprised.

"That's what I thought." Her voice, amazingly, sounded like she was suppressing laughter.

"How in the…" I trailed off, trying to clear my head, get my bearings. "How did you get over here so fast?"

"I was standing right next to you, Bella," she said, her tone serious again.

I turned to sit up, and this time she let me, releasing his hold around my waist and sliding as far from me as she could in the limited space. I looked at her concerned, innocent expression and was disoriented again by the force of her gold-colored eyes. What was I asking her?

And then they found us, a crowd of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at us.

"Don't move," someone instructed.

"Get Tyler out of the van!" someone else shouted.

There was a flurry of activity around us. I tried to get up, but Edythe's cold hand pushed my shoulder down.

"Just stay put for now."

"But it's cold," I complained. It surprised me when she chuckled under her breath. There was an edge to the sound.

"You were over there," I suddenly remembered, and her chuckle stopped short. "You were by your car."

Her expression turned hard. "No, I wasn't."

"I saw you." All around us was chaos. I could hear the gruffer voices of adults arriving on the scene.

But I obstinately held on to our argument; I was right, and she was going to admit it.

"Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." She unleashed the full, devastating power of her eyes on me, as if trying to communicate something crucial.

"No." I set my jaw.

The gold in her eyes blazed. "Please, Bella."

"Why?" I demanded.

"Trust me," she pleaded, her soft voice overwhelming.

I could hear the sirens now. "Will you promise to explain everything to me later?"

"Fine," she snapped, abruptly exasperated.

"Fine," I repeated angrily.

It took six EMTs and two teachers — Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp — to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Edythe vehemently refused hers, and I tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I'd hit my head and probably had a concussion. I almost died of humiliation when they put on the neck brace. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Edythe got to ride in the front. It was maddening.

To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get me safely away.

"Bella!" he yelled in panic when he recognized me on the stretcher.

"I'm completely fine, Char — Dad," I sighed. "There's nothing wrong with me."

He turned to the closest EMT for a second opinion. I tuned him out to consider the jumble of inexplicable images churning chaotically in my head. When they'd lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car's bumper — a very distinct dent that fit the contours of Edythe's shoulders… as if she had braced herself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame…

And then there was her family, looking on from the distance, with expressions that ranged from disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their sister's safety. I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen — a solution that excluded the assumption that I was insane.

Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital. I felt ridiculous the whole time they were unloading me. What made it worse was that Edythe simply glided through the hospital doors under her own power. I ground my teeth together.

They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue. Since no one bothered pulling the curtain around to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn't obligated to wear the stupid-looking neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, I quickly unfastened the Velcro and threw it under the bed.

There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcher brought to the bed next to me. I recognized Tyler Crowley from my Government class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head. Tyler looked a hundred times worse than I felt. But he was staring anxiously at me.

"Bella, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Tyler — you look awful, are you all right?" As we spoke, nurses began unwinding his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over his forehead and left cheek.

He ignored me. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong…" He winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face.

"Don't worry about it; you missed me."

"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were gone…"

"Umm… Edythe pulled me out of the way."

He looked confused. "Who?"

"Edythe Cullen — she was standing next to me." I'd always been a terrible liar; I didn't sound convincing at all.

"Cullen? I didn't see her… wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is she okay?"

"I think so. She's here somewhere, but they didn't make her use a stretcher."

I knew I wasn't crazy. What had happened? There was no way to explain away what I'd seen.

They wheeled me away then, to X-ray my head. I told them there was nothing wrong, and I was right.

Not even a concussion. I asked if I could leave, but the nurse said I had to talk to a doctor first. So I was trapped in the ER, waiting, harassed by Tyler's constant apologies and promises to make it up to me.

No matter how many times I tried to convince him I was fine, he continued to torment himself. Finally, I closed my eyes and ignored him. He kept up a remorseful mumbling.

"Is she sleeping?" a musical voice asked. My eyes flew open.

Edythe was standing at the foot of my bed, smirking. I glared at her. It wasn't easy — it would have been more natural to ogle.

"Hey, Edythe, I'm really sorry —" Tyler began.

Edythe lifted a hand to stop him.

"No blood, no foul," she said, flashing his brilliant teeth. She moved to sit on the edge of Tyler's bed, facing me. She smirked again.

"So, what's the verdict?" she asked me.

"There's nothing wrong with me at all, but they won't let me go," I complained. "How come you aren't strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?"

"It's all about who you know," she answered. "But don't worry, I came to spring you."

Then a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. He was young, he was blond… and he was handsomer than any movie star I'd ever seen. He was pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Charlie's description, this had to be Edythe's father.

"So, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped.

He walked to the lightboard on the wall over my head, and turned it on.

"Your X-rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? Edythe said you hit it pretty hard."

"It's fine," I repeated with a sigh, throwing a quick scowl toward Edythe.

The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed when I winced.

"Tender?" he asked.

"Not really." I'd had worse.

I heard a chuckle, and looked over to see Edythe's patronizing smile. My eyes narrowed.

"Well, your father is in the waiting room — you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all."

"Can't I go back to school?" I asked, imagining Charlie trying to be attentive.

"Maybe you should take it easy today."

I glanced at Edythe. "Does she get to go to school?"

"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived," Edythe said smugly.

"Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "most of the school seems to be in the waiting room."

"Oh no," I moaned, covering my face with my hands.

Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?"

"No, no!" I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly. Too quickly — I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. He looked concerned.

"I'm fine," I assured him again. No need to tell him my balance problems had nothing to do with hitting my head.

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied me.

"It doesn't hurt that bad," I insisted.

"It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed my chart with a flourish.

"Lucky Edythe happened to be standing next to me," I amended with a hard glance at the subject of my statement.

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. Then he looked away, at Tyler, and walked to the next bed. My intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it.

"I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with us just a little bit longer," he said to Tyler, and began checking his cuts.

As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I moved to Edythe's side.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I hissed under my breath. She took a step back from me, her jaw suddenly clenched.

"Your father is waiting for you," she said through her teeth.

I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler.

"I'd like to speak with you alone, if you don't mind," I pressed.

She glared, and then turned her back and strode down the long room. I nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, she spun around to face me.

"What do you want?" she asked, sounding annoyed. Her eyes were cold.

Her unfriendliness intimidated me. My words came out with less severity than I'd intended. "You owe me an explanation," I reminded her.

"I saved your life — I don't owe you anything."

I flinched back from the resentment in her voice. "You promised."

"Bella, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." Her tone was cutting.

My temper flared now, and I glared defiantly at her. "There's nothing wrong with my head."

She glared back. "What do you want from me, Bella?"

"I want to know the truth," I said. "I want to know why I'm lying for you."

"What do you think happened?" she snapped.

It came out in a rush.

"All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me — Tyler didn't see you, either, so don't tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both — and it didn't, and your hands left dents in the side of it — and you left a dent in the other car, and you're not hurt at all — and the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up…" I could hear how crazy it sounded, and I couldn't continue. I was so mad I could feel the tears coming; I tried to force them back by grinding my teeth together.

She was staring at me incredulously. But her face was tense, defensive.

"You think I lifted a van off you?" Her tone questioned my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor.

I merely nodded once, jaw tight.

"Nobody will believe that, you know." Her voice held an edge of derision now.

"I'm not going to tell anybody." I said each word slowly, carefully controlling my anger.

Surprise flitted across her face. "Then why does it matter?"

"It matters to me," I insisted. "I don't like to lie — so there'd better be a good reason why I'm doing it."

"Can't you just thank me and get over it?"

"Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant.

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"No."

"In that case… I hope you enjoy disappointment."

We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I was in danger of being distracted by her livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.

"Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly.

She paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable.

"I don't know," she whispered.

And then she turned her back on me and walked away.

I was so angry, it took me a few minutes until I could move. When I could walk, I made my way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway.

The waiting room was more unpleasant than I'd feared. It seemed like every face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. Charlie rushed to my side; I put up my hands.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I assured him sullenly. I was still aggravated, not in the mood for chitchat.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home." I sighed. Mike and Jessica and Eric were all there, beginning to converge on us. "Let's go," I urged.

Charlie put one arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and led me to the glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends, hoping to convey that they didn't need to worry anymore. It was a huge relief— the first time I'd ever felt that way — to get into the cruiser.

We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely knew Charlie was there. I was positive that Edythe's defensive behavior in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still could hardly believe I'd witnessed.

When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke.

"Um… you'll need to call Renée." He hung his head, guilty.

I was appalled. "You told Mom!"

"Sorry."

I slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on my way out.

My mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine at least thirty times before she would calm down. She begged me to come home — forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment — but her pleas were easier to resist than I would have thought. I was consumed by the mystery Edythe presented. And more than a little obsessed by Edythe himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I wasn't as eager to escape Forks as I should be, as any normal, sane person would be.

I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Charlie continued to watch me anxiously, and it was getting on my nerves. I stopped on my way to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. They did help, and, as the pain eased, I drifted to sleep.

That was the first night I dreamed of Edythe Cullen.


	5. VISIONS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is from Edythe's point of view. Inspired by the revelations in Midnight Sun I felt were so interesting and beautiful that Edythe could experience. The family meeting I thought was so important and what she realizes in the end.

I went back to school. This was the right thing to do, the most inconspicuous way to behave.

By the end of the day, almost all the other students had returned to class, too. Just Tyler and Bella and a few others - who were probably using the accident as a chance to ditch - remained absent.

It shouldn't be so hard for me to do the right thing. But, all afternoon, I was gritting my teeth against the urge that had me yearning ditch, too - in order to go find the girl again.

Like a stalker. An obsessed stalker. An obsessed, vampire stalker.

School today was - somehow, impossibly - even more boring than it had seemed just a week ago. Coma-like. It was as if the color had drained from the bricks, the trees, the sky, the faces around me... I stared at the cracks in the walls.

There was another right thing I should be doing...that I was not. Of course, it was also a wrong thing. It all depended on the perspective from which you viewed it.

From the perspective of a Cullen - not just a vampire, but a Cullen, someone who belonged to a family, such a rare state in our world - the right thing to do would have gone something like this:

"I'm surprised to see you in class, Edythe. I heard you were involved in that awful accident this morning."

"Yes, I was, Mr. Banner, but I was the lucky one." A friendly smile. "I didn't get hurt at all... I wish I could say the same for Tyler and Bella."

"How are they?"

"I think Tyler is fine...just some superficial scrapes from the windshield glass. I'm not sure about Bella, though." A worried frown. "She might have a concussion. I heard she was pretty incoherent for a while - seeing things even. I know the doctors were worried..."

That's how it should have gone. That's what I owed my family.

"I'm surprised to see you in class, Edythe. I heard you were involved in that awful accident this morning."

"I wasn't hurt." No smile.

Mr. Banner shifted his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable.

"Do you have any idea how Tyler Crowley and Bella Swan are? I heard there were some injuries..."

I shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

Mr. Banner cleared his throat. "Er, right..." he said, my cold stare making his voice sound a bit strained.

He walked quickly back to the front of classroom and began his lecture.

It was the wrong thing to do. Unless you looked at it from a more obscure point of view.

It just seemed so...so unchivalrous to slander the girl behind her back, especially when she was proving more trustworthy than I could have dreamed. She hadn't said anything to betray me, despite having good reason to do so. Would I betray her when she had done nothing but keep my secret?

I had a nearly identical conversation with Mrs. Goff - just in Spanish rather than in English - and Emmett gave me a long look.

I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR WHAT HAPPENED TODAY. ROSE IS ON THE WAR PATH.

I rolled my eyes without looking at him.

I actually had come up with a perfectly sound explanation. Just suppose I hadn't done anything to stop the van from crushing the girl... I recoiled from that thought. But if she had been hit, if she'd been mangled and bleeding, the red fluid spilling, wasting on the blacktop, the scent of the fresh blood pulsing through the air ...

I shuddered again, but not just in horror. Part of me shivered in desire. No, I would not have been able to watch her bleed without exposing us all in a much more flagrant and shocking way.

It was a perfectly sound excuse...but I wouldn't use it. It was too shameful. And I hadn't thought of it until long after the fact, regardless.

LOOK OUT FOR JASPER, Emmett went on, oblivious to my reverie. HE'S NOT AS ANGRY...BUT HE'S MORE RESOLVED.

I saw what he meant, and for a moment the room swam around me. My rage was so all-consuming that a red haze clouded my vision. I thought I would choke on it.

SHEESH, EDYTHE! GET A GRIP! Emmett shouted at me in his head. His hand came down on my shoulder, holding me in my seat before I could jump to my feet. He rarely used his full strength - there was rarely a need, for he was so much stronger than any vampire any of us had ever encountered - but he used it now. He gripped my arm, rather than pushing me down. If he'd been pushing, the chair under me would have collapsed.

EASY! He ordered.

I tried to calm myself, but it was hard. The rage burned in my head.

JASPER'S NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING UNTIL WE TALK. I JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW THE DIRECTION HE'S HEADED. 

I concentrated on relaxing, and I felt Emmett's hand loosen.

TRY NOT TO MAKE MORE OF A SPECTACLE OF YOURSELF. YOU'RE IN ENOUGH TROUBLE AS IS. I TOOK A DEEP BREATH AND EMMETT RELEASED ME.

I searched around the room routinely, but our confrontation had been so short and silent that only a few people sitting behind Emmett had even noticed. None of them knew what to make of it, and they shrugged it off. The Cullens were freaks - everyone knew that already.

DAMN, KID, YOU'RE A MESS, Emmett added, sympathy in his tone.

"Bite me," I muttered under my breath, and I heard his low chuckle.

Emmett didn't hold grudges, and I probably ought to be more grateful for his easy going nature. But I could see that Jasper's intentions made sense to Emmett, that he was considering how it might be the best course of action.

The rage simmered, barely under control. Yes, Emmett was stronger than I was, but he'd yet to beat me in a wrestling match. He claimed that this was because I cheated, but hearing thoughts was just as much a part of who I was as his immense strength was a part of him. We were evenly matched in a fight.

A fight? Was that where this was headed? Was I going to fight with my family over a human I barely knew?

I thought about that for a moment, thought about the fragile feel of the girl's body in my arms in juxtaposition with Jasper, Rose, and Emmett - supernaturally strong and fast, killing machines by nature...

Yes, I would fight for her. Against my family. I shuddered.

But it wasn't fair to leave her undefended when I was the one who'd put her in danger.

I couldn't win alone, though, not against the three of them, and I wondered who my allies would be.

Carlisle, certainly. He would not fight anyone, but he would be wholly against Rose's and Jasper's designs. That might be all I needed. I would see...

Esme, doubtful. She would not side against me either, and she would hate to disagree with Carlisle, but she would be for any plan that kept her family intact. Her first priority would not be rightness, but me. If Carlisle was the soul of our family, then Esme was the heart. He gave us a leader who deserved following; she made that following into an act of love. We all loved each other - even under the fury I felt toward Jasper and Rose right now, even planning to fight them to save the girl, I knew that I loved them. Alice...I had no idea. It would probably depend on what she saw coming. She would side with the winner, I imagined.

So, I would have to do this without help. I wasn't a match for them alone, but I wasn't going to let the girl be hurt because of me. That might mean evasive action... My rage dulled a bit with the sudden, black humor. I could imagine how the girl would react to my kidnapping her. Of course, I rarely guessed her reactions right - but what other reaction could she have besides terror?

I wasn't sure how to manage that, though - kidnapping her. I wouldn't be able to stand being close to her for very long. Perhaps I would just deliver her back to her mother. Even that much would be fraught with danger. For her.

And also for me, I realized suddenly. If I were to kill her by accident... I wasn't certain exactly how much pain that would cause me, but I knew it would be multifaceted and intense.

The time passed quickly while I mulled over all the complications ahead of me: the argument waiting for me at home, the conflict with my family, the lengths I might be forced to go to afterward...

Well, I couldn't complain that life outside this school was monotonous any more. The girl had changed that much.

Emmett and I walked silently to the car when the bell rang. He was worrying about me, and worrying about Rosalie. He knew whose side he would have to choose in a quarrel, and it bothered him.

The others were waiting for us in the car, also silent. We were a very quiet group. Only I could hear the shouting.

IDIOT! LUNATIC! MORON! JACKASS! SELFISH, IRRESPONSIBLE FOOL! Rosalie kept up a constant stream of insults at the top of her mental lungs. It made it hard to hear the others, but I ignored her as best I could.

Emmett was right about Jasper. He was sure of his course.

Alice was troubled, worrying about Jasper, flipping through images of the future. No matter which direction Jasper came at the girl, Alice always saw me there, blocking him. Interesting...neither Rosalie nor Emmett was with him in these visions. So Jasper planned to work alone. That would even things up.

Jasper was the best, certainly the most experienced fighter among us. My one advantage lay in that I could hear his moves before he made them.

I had never fought more than playfully with Emmett or Jasper - just horsing around. I felt sick at the thought of really trying to hurt Jasper...

No, not that. Just to block him. That was all.

I concentrated on Alice, memorizing Jasper's different avenues of attack.

As I did that, her visions shifted, moving further and further away from the Swan's house. I was cutting him off earlier...

STOP THAT, EDYTHE! IT CAN'T HAPPEN THIS WAY. I WON'T LET IT.

I didn't answer her, I just kept watching.

She began searching farther ahead, into the misty, unsure realm of distant possibilities. Everything was shadowy and vague.

The entire way home, the charged silence did not lift. I parked in the big garage off the house; Carlisle's Mercedes was there, next to Emmett's big jeep, Rose's M3 and my Vanquish. I was glad Carlisle was already home - this silence would end explosively, and I wanted him there when that happened.

We went straight to the dining room.

The room was, of course, never used for its intended purpose. But it was furnished with a long oval mahogany table surrounded by chairs - we were scrupulous about having all the correct props in place. Carlisle liked to use it as a conference room. In a group with such strong and disparate personalities, sometimes it was necessary to discuss things in a calm, seated manner.

I had a feeling that the setting was not going to help much today.

Carlisle sat in his usual seat at the eastern head of the room. Esme was beside him - they held hands on top of the table.

Esme's eyes were on me, their golden depths full of concern.

STAY. It was her only thought.

I wished I could smile at the woman who was truly a mother to me, but I had no reassurances for her now.

I sat on Carlisle's other side. Esme reached around him to put her free hand on my shoulder. She had no idea of what was about to start; she was just worrying about me.

Carlisle had a better sense of what was coming. His lips were pressed tightly together and his forehead was creased. The expression looked too old for his young face. As everyone else sat, I could see the lines being drawn.

Rosalie sat directly across from Carlisle, on the other end of the long table. She glared at me, never looking away.

Emmett sat beside her, his face and thoughts both wry.

Jasper hesitated, and then went to stand against the wall behind Rosalie. He was decided, regardless of the outcome of this discussion. My teeth locked together.

Alice was the last to come in, and her eyes were focused on something far away - the future, still too indistinct for her to make use of it. Without seeming to think about it, she sat next to Esme. She rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache. Jasper twitched uneasily and considered joining her, but he kept his place.

I took a deep breath. I had started this - I should speak first.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking first at Rose, then Jasper and then Emmett. "I didn't mean to put any of you at risk. It was thoughtless, and I take full responsibility for my hasty action."

Rosalie glared at me balefully. "What do you mean, take full responsibility'? Are you going to fix it?"

"Not the way you mean," I said, working to keep my voice even and quiet. "I'm willing to leave now, if that makes things better." If I believe that the girl will be safe, if I believe that none of you will touch her, I amended in my head.

"No," Esme murmured. "No, Edythe."

I patted her hand. "It's just a few years."

"Esme's right, though," Emmett said. "You can't go anywhere now. That would be the opposite of helpful. We have to know what people are thinking, now more than ever."

"Alice will catch anything major," I disagreed. Carlisle shook his head. "I think Emmett is right, Edythe. The girl will be more likely to talk if you disappear. It's all of us leave, or none of us."

"She won't say anything," I insisted quickly. Rose was building up to the explosion, and I wanted this fact out there first.

"You don't know her mind," Carlisle reminded me.

"I know this much. Alice, back me up."

Alice stared up at me wearily. "I can't see what will happen if we just ignore this." She glanced at Rose and Jasper.

No, she couldn't see that future - not when Rosalie and Jasper were so decided against ignoring the incident.

Rosalie's palm smacked down on the table with a loud bang. "We can't allow the human a chance to say anything. Carlisle, you must see that. Even if we decided to all disappear, it's not safe to leave stories behind us. We live so differently from the rest of our kind - you know there are those who would love an excuse to point fingers. We have to be more careful than anyone else!"

"We've left rumors behind us before," I reminded her.

"Just rumors and suspicions, Edythe. Not eyewitnesses and evidence!"

"Evidence!" I scoffed.

But Jasper was nodding, his eyes hard.

"Rose - " Carlisle began.

"Let me finish, Carlisle. It doesn't have to be any big production. The girl hit her head today. So maybe that injury turns out to be more serious that it looked." Rosalie shrugged. "Every mortal goes to sleep with the chance of never waking up. The others would expect us to clean up after ourselves. Technically, that would make it Edythe's job, but this is obviously beyond him. You know I'm capable of control. I would leave no evidence behind me."

"Yes, Rosalie, we all know how proficient an assassin you are," I snarled.

She hissed at me, furious.

"Edythe, please," Carlisle said. Then he turned to Rosalie. "Rosalie, I looked the other way in Rochester because I felt that you were owed your justice. The men you killed had wronged you monstrously. This is not the same situation. The Swan girl is an innocent."

"It's not personal, Carlisle," Rosalie said through her teeth. "It's to protect us all."

There was a brief moment of silence while Carlisle thought through his answer. When he nodded, Rosalie's eyes lit up. She should have known better. Even if I hadn't been able to read his thoughts, I could have anticipated his next words. Carlisle never compromised.

"I know you mean well, Rosalie, but...I'd like very much for our family to be worth protecting. The occasional...accident or lapse in control is a regrettable part of who we are." It was very like him to include himself in the plural, though he had never had such a lapse himself. "To murder a blameless child in cold blood is another thing entirely. I believe the risk she presents, whether she speaks her suspicions or not, is nothing to the greater risk. If we make exceptions to protect ourselves, we risk something much more important. We risk losing the essence of who we are."

I controlled my expression very carefully. It wouldn't do at all to grin. Or to applaud, as I wished I could.

Rosalie scowled. "It's just being responsible."

"It's being callous," Carlisle corrected gently. "Every life is precious." Rosalie sighed heavily and her lower lip pouted out. Emmett patted her shoulder. "It'll be fine, Rose," he encouraged in a low voice.

"The question," Carlisle continued, "is whether we should move on?"

"No," Rosalie moaned. "We just got settled. I don't want to start on my sophomore year in high school again!"

"You could keep your present age, of course," Carlisle said.

"And have to move again that much sooner?" she countered.

Carlisle shrugged.

"I like it here! There's so little sun, we get to be almost normal."

"Well, we certainly don't have to decide now. We can wait and see if it becomes necessary. Edythe seems certain of the Swan girl's silence."

Rosalie snorted.

But I was no longer worried about Rose. I could see that she would go along with Carlisle's decision, not matter how infuriated she was with me. Their conversation had moved on to unimportant details.

Jasper remained unmoved.

I understood why. Before he and Alice had met, he'd lived in a combat zone, a relentless theater of war. He knew the consequences of flouting the rules - he'd seen the grisly aftermath with his own eyes.

It said much that he had not tried to calm Rosalie down with his extra faculties, nor did he now try to rile her up. He was holding himself aloof from this discussion - above it.

"Jasper," I said.

He met my gaze, his face expressionless.

"She won't pay for my mistake. I won't allow that."

"She benefits from it, then? She should have died today, Edythe. I would only set that right."

I repeated myself, emphasizing each word. "I will not allow it."

His eyebrows shot up. He wasn't expecting this - he hadn't imagined that I would act to stop him.

He shook his head once. "I won't let Alice live in danger, even a slight danger. You don't feel about anyone the way I feel about her, Edythe, and you haven't lived through what I've lived through, whether you've seen my memories or not. You don't understand."

"I'm not disputing that, Jasper. But I'm telling you now, I won't allow you to hurt Isabella Swan."

We stared at each other - not glaring, but measuring the opposition. I felt him sample the mood around me, testing my determination.

"Jazz," Alice said, interrupting us.

He held my gaze for a moment more, and then looked at her. "Don't bother telling me you can protect yourself, Alice. I already know that. I've still got to - " "That's not what I'm going say," Alice interrupted. "I was going to ask you for a favor."

I saw what was on her mind, and my mouth fell open with an audible gasp. I stared at her, shocked, only vaguely aware that everyone besides Alice and Jasper was now eyeing me warily.

"I know you love me. Thanks. But I would really appreciate it if you didn't try to kill Bella. First of all, Edythe's serious and I don't want you two fighting. Secondly, she's my friend. At least, she's going to be."

It was clear as glass in her head: Alice, smiling, with her icy white arm around the girl's warm, fragile shoulders. And Bella was smiling, too, her arm around Alice's waist. The vision was rock solid; only the timing of it was unsure.

"But...Alice..." Jasper gasped. I couldn't manage to turn my head to see his expression. I couldn't tear myself away from the image in Alice's head in order to hear his.

"I'm going to love her someday, Jazz. I'll be very put out with you if you don't let her be."

I was still locked into Alice's thoughts. I saw the future shimmer as Jasper's resolve floundered in the face of her unexpected request.

"Ah," she sighed - his indecision had cleared a new future. "See? Bella's not going to say anything. There's nothing to worry about."

The way she said the girl's name...like they were already close confidants... "Alice," I choked. "What...does this...?"

"I told you there was a change coming. I don't know, Edythe." But she locked her jaw, and I could see that there was more. She was trying not to think about it; she was focusing very hard on Jasper suddenly, though he was too stunned to have progressed much in his decision making.

She did this sometimes when she was trying to keep something from me. "What, Alice? What are you hiding?"

I heard Emmett grumble. He always got frustrated when Alice and I had these kinds of conversations.

She shook her head, trying to not let me in.

"Is it about the girl?" I demanded. "Is it about Bella?"

She had her teeth gritted in concentration, but when I spoke Bella's name, she slipped. Her slip only lasted the tiniest portion of a second, but that was long enough. "NO!" I shouted. I heard my chair hit the floor, and only then realized I was on my feet.

"Edythe!" Carlisle was on his feet, too, his arm on my shoulder. I was barely aware of him.

"It's solidifying," Alice whispered. "Every minute you're more decided.

There's really only two ways left for her. It's one or the other, Edythe." I could see what she saw...but I could not accept it.

"No," I said again; there was no volume to my denial. My legs felt hollow, and I had to brace myself against the table.

"Will somebody please let the rest of us in on the mystery?" Emmett complained. "I have to leave," I whispered to Alice, ignoring him.

"Edythe, we've already been over that," Emmett said loudly. "That's the best way to start the girl talking. Besides, if you take off, we won't know for sure if she's talking or not. You have to stay and deal with this."

"I don't see you going anywhere, Edythe," Alice told me. "I don't know if you can leave anymore." THINK ABOUT IT, she added silently. THINK ABOUT LEAVING.

I saw what she meant. Yes, the idea of never seeing the girl again was...painful.

But it was also necessary. I couldn't sanction either future I'd apparently condemned her to.

I'M NOT ENTIRELY SURE OF JASPER, EDYTHE, Alice went on. IF YOU LEAVE, IF HE THINKS SHE'S A DANGER TO US...

"I don't hear that," I contradicted her, still only halfway aware of our audience. Jasper was wavering. He would not do something that would hurt Alice.

NOT RIGHT THIS MOMENT. WILL YOU RISK HER LIFE, LEAVE HER UNDEFENDED? "Why are you doing this to me?" I groaned. My head fell into my hands. I was not Bella's protector. I could not be that. Wasn't Alice's divided future enough proof of that?

I LOVE HER, TOO. OR I WILL. IT'S NOT THE SAME, BUT I WANT HER AROUND FOR THAT. "Love her, too?" I whispered, incredulous.

She sighed. YOU ARE SO BLIND, EDYTHE. CAN'T YOU SEE WHERE YOU'RE HEADED? CAN'T YOU SEE WHERE YOU ALREADY ARE? IT'S MORE INEVITABLE THAN THE SUN RISING IN THE EAST SEE WHAT I SEE...

I shook my head, horrified. "No." I tried to shut out the visions she revealed to me. "I don't have to follow that course. I'll leave. I will change the future." "You can try," she said, her voice skeptical.

"Oh, come on!" Emmett bellowed.

"Pay attention," Rose hissed at him. "Alice sees him falling for a human! How classically Edythe!" She made a gagging sound.

I scarcely heard her.

"What?" Emmett said, startled. Then his booming laugh echoed through the room. "Is that what's been going on? I knew it! I knew it! I told you all! I told you Edythe! You're gay!" He laughed again. "Tough break, Edythe."

I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I shook it off absently. I couldn't pay attention to him.

"Fall for a human?" Esme repeated in a stunned voice. "For the girl he saved today? Fall in love with her?" She turned to me. "It's okay she's a girl Edythe. Times have changed." I saw Carlisle nodding in agreement beside her.

"What do you see, Alice? Exactly," Jasper demanded.

She turned toward him; I continued to stare numbly at the side of her face.

"It all depends on whether she is strong enough or not. Either she'll kill her herself" - she turned to meet my gaze again, glaring - "which would really irritate me, Edythe, not to mention what it would do to you - " she faced Jasper again, "or we'll have a human among us someday."

Someone gasped; I didn't look to see who.

"That's not going to happen!" I was shouting again. "Either one!"

Alice didn't seem to hear me. "It all depends," she repeated. "She may be just strong enough not to kill her - but it will be close. It will take an amazing amount of control," she mused. "More even than Carlisle has. She may be just strong enough... I don't see you changing her though. Which I find odd." She glared at me. "It would make things so much easier. The only thing she's not strong enough to do is stay away from her. That's a lost cause." I couldn't find my voice. No one else seemed to be able to either. The room was still.

I stared at Alice, and everyone else stared at me. I could see my own horrified expression from five different viewpoints.

After a long moment, Carlisle sighed.

"Well, this...complicates things."

"I'll say," Emmett agreed. His voice was still close to laughter. Trust Emmett to find the joke in the destruction of my life.

"I suppose the plans remain the same, though," Carlisle said thoughtfully. "We'll stay, and watch. Obviously, no one will...hurt the girl."

I stiffened.

"No," Jasper said quietly. "I can agree to that. If Alice sees only two ways - "

"No!" My voice was not a shout or a growl or a cry of despair, but some combination of the three. "No!"

I had to leave, to be away from the noise of their thoughts - Rosalie's selfrighteous disgust, Emmett's humor, Carlisle's never ending patience...

Worse: Alice's confidence. Jasper's confidence in that confidence.

Worst of all: Esme's...joy.

I stalked out of the room. Esme touched my arm as I passed, but I didn't acknowledge the gesture.

I was running before I was out of the house. I cleared the river in one bound, and raced into the forest. The rain was back again, falling so heavily that I was drenched in a few moments. I liked the thick sheet of water - it made a wall between me and the rest of the world. It closed me in, let me be alone.

I ran due east, over and through the mountains without breaking my straight course, until I could see the lights of Seattle on the other side of the sound. I stopped before I touched the borders of human civilization.

Shut in by the rain, all alone, I finally made myself look at what I had done - at the way I had mutilated the future.

First, the vision of Alice and the girl with their arms around each other - the trust and friendship was so obvious it shouted from the image. Bella's wide chocolate eyes were not bewildered in this vision, but still full of secrets - in this moment, they seemed to be happy secrets. She did not flinch away from Alice's cold arm.

What did it mean? How much did she know? In that still-life moment from the future, what did she think of me?

I shuddered. I could not suppress the questions. What did it mean - how had this come about? And what did she think of me now?

I could answer that last one. If I forced her into this empty half-life through my weakness and selfishness, surely she would hate me.

But there was one more horrifying image - worse than any image I'd ever held inside my head.

My own eyes, deep crimson with human blood, the eyes of the monster. Bella's broken body in my arms, ashy white, drained, lifeless. It was so concrete, so clear. I couldn't stand to see this. Could not bear it. I tried to banish it from my mind, tried to see something else, anything else. Tried to see again the expression on her living face that had obstructed my view for the last chapter of my existence. All to no avail. Alice's bleak vision filled my head, and I writhed internally with the agony it caused. Meanwhile, the monster in me was overflowing with glee, jubilant at the likelihood of her success. It sickened me.

This could not be allowed.


	6. INVATATIONS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter of Midnight Sun. For all fans out there I always wondered if vampire experience some thing similar to imprinting like mentioned in the original series. In this case it almost feels like Bella was imprinted on. You can't choose love. I don't think here Edythe has much choice about not fighting it anymore.

High school. Purgatory no longer, it was now purely hell. Torment and fire...yes, I had both.

I was doing everything correctly now. Every "i" dotted, every "t" crossed. No one could complain that I was shirking my responsibilities.

To please Esme and protect the others, I stayed in Forks. I returned to my old schedule. I hunted no more than the rest of them. Everyday, I attended high school and played human. Everyday, I listened carefully for anything new about the Cullens - there never was anything new. The girl did not speak one word of her suspicions. She just repeated the same story again and again - I'd been standing with her and then pulled her out of the way - till her eager listeners got bored and stopped looking for more details. There was no danger. My hasty action had hurt no one.

No one but myself.

I was determined to change the future. Not the easiest task to set for oneself, but there was no other choice that I could live with.

Alice said that I would not be strong enough to stay away from the girl. I would prove her wrong.

I'd thought the first day would be the hardest. By the end of it, I'd been sure that was the case. I'd been wrong, though.

It had rankled, knowing that I would hurt the girl. I'd comforted myself with the fact that her pain would be nothing more than a pinprick - just a tiny sting of rejection - compared to mine. Bella was human, and she knew that I was something else, something wrong, something frightening. She would probably be more relieved than wounded when I turned my face away from her and pretended that she didn't exist.

"Hello, Edythe," she'd greeted me, that first day back in biology. Her voice had been pleasant, friendly, one hundred and eighty degrees from the last time I'd spoken with her.

Why? What did the change mean? Had she forgotten? Decided she had imagined the whole episode? Could she possibly have forgiven me for not following through on my promise?

The questions had burned like the thirst that attacked me every time I breathed. Just one moment to look in her eyes. Just to see if I could read the answers there...

No. I could not allow myself even that. Not if I was going to change the future. I'd moved my chin an inch in her direction without looking away from the front of the room. I'd nodded once, and then turned my face straight forward.

She did not speak to me again.

That afternoon, as soon as school was finished, my role played, I ran to Seattle as I had the day before. It seemed that I could handle the aching just slightly better when I was flying over the ground, turning everything around me into a green blur.

This run became my daily habit.

Did I love her? I did not think so. Not yet. Alice's glimpses of that future had stuck with me, though, and I could see how easy it would be to fall into loving Bella. It would be exactly like falling: effortless. Not letting myself love her was the opposite of falling - it was pulling myself up a cliff-face, hand over hand, the task as grueling as if I had no more than mortal strength.

More than a month passed, and every day it got harder. That made no sense to me - I kept waiting to get over it, to have it get easier. This must be what Alice had meant when she'd predicted that I would not be able to stay away from the girl. She had seen the escalation of the pain. But I could handle pain.

I would not destroy Bella's future. If I was destined to love her, then wasn't avoiding her the very least I could do?

Avoiding her was about the limit of what I could bear, though. I could pretend to ignore her, and never look her way. I could pretend that she was of no interest to me. But that was the extent, just pretense and not reality.

I still hung on every breath she took, every word she said.

I lumped my torments into four categories.

The first two were familiar. Her scent and her silence. Or, rather - to take the responsibility on myself where it belonged - my thirst and my curiosity.

The thirst was the most primal of my torments. It was my habit now to simply not breathe at all in Biology. Of course, there were always the exceptions - when I had to answer a question of something of the sort, and I would need my breath to speak. Each time I tasted the air around the girl, it was the same as the first day - fire and need and brutal violence desperate to break free. It was hard to cling even slightly to reason or restraint in those moments. And, just like that first day, the monster in me would roar, so close to the surface...

The curiosity was the most constant of my torments. The question was never out of my mind: What is she thinking now? When I heard her quietly sigh. When she twisted a lock of hair absently around her finger. When she threw her books down with more force than usual. When she rushed to class late. When she tapped her foot impatiently against the floor. Each movement caught in my peripheral vision was a maddening mystery. When she spoke to the other human students, I analyzed her every word and tone. Was she speaking her thoughts, or what she thought she should say? It often sounded to me like she was trying to say what her audience expected, and this reminded me of my family and our daily life of illusion - we were better at it than she was. Unless I wrong about that, just imagining things. Why would she have to play a role? She was one of them - a human teenager.

Mike Newton was the most surprising of my torments. Who would have ever dreamed that such a generic, boring mortal could be so infuriating? To be fair, I should have felt some gratitude to the annoying boy; more than the others, he kept the girl talking. I learned so much about her through these conversations - I was still compiling my list - but, contrarily, Mike's assistance with this project only aggravated me more. I didn't want Mike to be the one that unlocked her secrets. I wanted to do that.

It helped that he never noticed her small revelations, her little slips. He knew nothing about her. He'd created a Bella in his head that didn't exist - a girl just as generic as he was. He hadn't observed the unselfishness and bravery that set her apart from other humans, he didn't hear the abnormal maturity of her spoken thoughts. He didn't perceive that when she spoke of her mother, she sounded like a parent speaking of a child rather than the other way around - loving, indulgent, slightly amused, and fiercely protective. He didn't hear the patience in her voice when she feigned interest in his rambling stories, and didn't guess at the kindness behind that patience.

Through her conversations with Mike, I was able to add the most important quality to my list, the most revealing of them all, as simple as it was rare. Bella was good. All the other things added up to that whole - kind and self-effacing and unselfish and loving and brave - she was good through and through.

These helpful discoveries did not warm me to the boy, however. The possessive way he viewed Bella - as if she were an acquisition to be made - provoked me almost as much as his crude fantasies about her. He was becoming more confident of her, too, as the time passed, for she seemed to prefer him over those he considered his rivals - Tyler Crowley, Eric Yorkie, and even, sporadically, myself. He would routinely sit on her side of our table before class began, chattering at her, encouraged by her smiles. Just polite smiles, I told myself. All the same, I frequently amused myself by imagining backhanding him across the room and into the far wall... It probably wouldn't injure him fatally...

Mike didn't often think of me as a rival. After the accident, he'd worried that Bella and I would bond from the shared experience, but obviously the opposite had resulted. Back then, he had still been bothered that I'd singled Bella out over her peers for attention. But now I ignored her just as thoroughly as the others, and he grew complacent.

What was she thinking now? Did she welcome his attention?

And, finally, the last of my torments, the most painful: Bella's indifference. As I ignored her, she ignored me. She never tried to speak to me again. For all I knew, she never thought about me at all.

This might have driven me mad - or even broken my resolution to change the future - except that she sometimes stared at me like she had before. I didn't see it for myself, as I could not allow myself to look at her, but Alice always warned us when she was about to stare; the others were still wary of the girl's problematic knowledge. It eased some of the pain that she gazed at me from across a distance, every now and then. Of course, she could just be wondering what kind of a freak I was.

"Bella's going to stare at Edythe in a minute. Look normal," Alice said one Tuesday in March, and the others were careful to fidget and shift their weight like humans; absolute stillness was a marker of our kind.

I paid attention to how often she looked my direction. It pleased me, though it should not, that the frequency did not decline as the time passed. I didn't know what it meant, but it made me feel better.

Alice sighed. I wish...

"Stay out of it, Alice," I said under my breath. "It's not going to happen." She pouted. Alice was anxious to form her envisioned friendship with Bella. In a strange way, she missed the girl she didn't know.

I'LL ADMIT, YOU'RE BETTER THAN I THOUGHT. YOU'VE GOT THE FUTURE ALL SNARLED UP AND SENSELESS AGAIN. I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY.

"It makes plenty of sense to me."

She snorted delicately.

I tried to shut her out, too impatient for conversation. I wasn't in a very good mood - tenser than I let any of them see. Only Jasper was aware of how tightly wound I was, feeling the stress emanate out of me with his unique ability to both sense and influence the moods of others. He didn't understand the reasons behind the moods, though, and - since I was constantly in a foul mood these days - he disregarded it. Today would be a hard one. Harder than the day before, as was the pattern.

Mike Newton, the odious boy whom I could not allow myself to rival, was going to ask Bella on a date.

A girl's choice dance was on the near horizon, and he'd been hoping very much that Bella would ask him. That she had not done so had rattled his confidence. Now he was in an uncomfortable bind - I enjoyed his discomfort more than I should - because Jessica Stanley had just asked him to the dance. He didn't want to say "yes," still hopeful that Bella would choose him (and prove him the victor over his rivals), but he didn't want to say "no" and end up missing the dance altogether. Jessica, hurt by his hesitation and guessing the reason behind it, was thinking daggers at Bella. Again, I had the instinct to place myself between Jessica's angry thoughts and Bella. I understood the instinct better now, but that only made it more frustrating when I could not act on it.

To think it had come to this! I was utterly fixated on the petty high school dramas that I'd once held so in contempt.

Mike was working up his nerve as he walked Bella to biology. I listened to his struggles as I waited for them to arrive. The boy was weak. He had waited for this dance purposely, afraid to make his infatuation known before she had shown a marked preference for him. He didn't want to make himself vulnerable to rejection, preferring that she make that leap first.

Coward.

He sat down on our table again, comfortable with long familiarity, and I imagined the sound it would make if his body hit the opposite wall with enough force to break most of his bones.

"So," he said to the girl, his eyes on the floor. "Jessica asked me to the spring dance."

"That's great," Bella answered immediately and with enthusiasm. It was hard not to smile as her tone sunk in to Mike's awareness. He'd been hoping for dismay. "You'll have a lot of fun with Jessica."

He scrambled for the right response. "Well..." he hesitated, and almost chickened out. Then he rallied. "I told her I had to think about it."

"Why would you do that?" she demanded. Her tone was one of disapproval, but there was the faintest hint of relief there as well.

What did that mean? An unexpected, intense fury made my hands clench into fists.

Mike did not hear the relief. His face was red with blood - fierce as I suddenly felt, this seemed like an invitation - and he looked at the floor again as he spoke. "I was wondering if...well, if you might be planning to ask me."

Bella hesitated.

In that moment of her hesitation, I saw the future more clearly than Alice ever had.

The girl might say yes to Mike's unspoken question now, and she might not, but either way, someday soon, she would say yes to someone. She was lovely and intriguing, and human males were not oblivious to this fact. Whether she would settle for someone in this lackluster crowd, or wait until she was free from Forks, the day would come that she would say yes.

I saw her life as I had before - college, career...love, marriage. I saw her on her father's arm again, dressed in gauzy white, her face flushed with happiness as she moved to the sound of Wagner's march.

The pain was more than anything I'd felt before. A human would have to be on the point of death to feel this pain - a human would not live through it.

And not just pain, but outright rage.

The fury ached for some kind of physical outlet. Though this insignificant, undeserving boy might not be the one that Bella would say yes to, I yearned to crush his skull in my hand, to let him stand as a representative for whoever it would be.

I didn't understand this emotion - it was such a tangle of pain and rage and desire and despair. I had never felt it before; I couldn't put a name to it.

"Mike, I think you should tell her yes," Bella said in a gentle voice.

Mike's hopes plummeted. I would have enjoyed that under other circumstances, but I was lost in the aftershock of the pain - and the remorse for what the pain and rage had done to me.

Alice was right. I was not strong enough.

Right now, Alice would be watching the future spin and twist, become mangled again. Would this please her?

"Did you already ask someone?" Mike asked sullenly. He glanced at me, suspicious for the first time in many weeks. I realized I had betrayed my interest; my head was inclined in Bella's direction.

The wild envy in his thoughts - envy for whoever this girl preferred to him - suddenly put a name to my unnamed emotion.

I was jealous.

"No," the girl said with a trace of humor in her voice. "I'm not going to the dance at all."

Through all the remorse and anger, I felt relief at her words. Suddenly, I was considering my rivals.

"Why not?" Mike asked, his tone almost rude. It offended me that he used this tone with her. I bit back a growl.

"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," she answered.

The curiosity was not as vicious as it would have been before - now that I was fully intending to find out the answers to everything. I would know the wheres and whys of this new revelation soon enough.

Mike's tone turned unpleasantly wheedling. "Can't you go some other weekend?"

"Sorry, no." Bella was brusquer now. "So you shouldn't make Jess wait any longer - it's rude."

Her concern for Jessica's feelings fanned the flames of my jealousy. This Seattle trip was clearly an excuse to say no - did she refuse purely out of loyalty to her friend? She was more than selfless enough for that. Did she actually wish she could say yes? Or were both guesses wrong? Was she interested in someone else?

"Yeah, you're right," Mike mumbled, so demoralized that I almost felt pity for him. Almost.

He dropped his eyes from the girl, cutting off my view of her face in his thoughts. I wasn't going to tolerate that.

I turned to read her face myself, for the first time in more than a month. It was a sharp relief to allow myself this, like a gasp of air to long-submerged human lungs. Her eyes were closed, and her hands pressed against the sides of her face. Her shoulders curved inward defensively. She shook her head ever so slightly, as if she were trying to push some thought from her mind.

Frustrating. Fascinating.

Mr. Banner's voice pulled her from her reverie, and her eyes slowly opened. She looked at me immediately, perhaps sensing my gaze. She stared up into my eyes with the same bewildered expression that had haunted me for so long.

I didn't feel the remorse or the guilt or the rage in that second. I knew they would come again, and come soon, but for this one moment I rode a strange, jittery high. As if I had triumphed, rather than lost.

She didn't look away, though I stared with inappropriate intensity, trying vainly to read her thoughts through her liquid brown eyes. They were full of questions, rather than answers.

I could see the reflection of my own eyes, and I saw that they were black with thirst. It had been nearly two weeks since my last hunting trip; this was not the safest day for my will to crumble. But the blackness did not seem to frighten her. She still did not look away, and a soft, devastatingly appealing pink began to color her skin.

What was she thinking now?

I almost asked the question aloud, but at that moment Mr. Banner called my name. I picked the correct answer out of his head while I glanced briefly in his direction. I sucked in a quick breath. "The Krebs Cycle."

Thirst scorched down my throat - tightening my muscles and filling my mouth with venom - and I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate through the desire for her blood that raged inside me.

The monster was stronger than before. The monster was rejoicing. He embraced this dual future that gave him an even, fifty-fifty chance at what he craved so viciously. The third, shaky future I'd tried to construct through willpower alone had crumbled - destroyed by common jealously, of all things - and he was so much closer to his goal. The remorse and the guilt burned with the thirst, and, if I'd had the ability to produce tears, they would have filled my eyes now.

What had I done?

Knowing the battle was already lost, there seemed to be no reason to resist what I wanted; I turned to stare at the girl again.

She had hidden in her hair, but I could see through a parting in the tresses that her cheek was deep crimson now.

The monster liked that.

She did not meet my gaze again, but she twisted a strand of her dark hair nervously between her fingers. Her delicate fingers, her fragile wrist - they were so breakable, looking for all the world like just my breath could snap them.

No, no, no. I could not do this. She was too breakable, too good, too precious to deserve this fate. I couldn't allow my life to collide with hers, to destroy it.

But I couldn't stay away from her either. Alice was right about that.

The monster inside me hissed with frustration as I wavered, leaning first one way, then the other.

My brief hour with her passed all too quickly, as I vacillated between the rock and the hard place. The bell rang, and she started collecting her things without looking at me. This disappointed me, but I could hardly expect otherwise. The way I had treated her since the accident was inexcusable.

"Bella?" I said, unable to stop myself. My willpower already lay in shreds. She hesitated before looking at me; when she turned, her expression was guarded, distrustful.

I reminded myself that she had every right to distrust me. That she should. She waited for me to continue, but I just stared at her, reading her face. I pulled in shallow mouthfuls of air at regular intervals, fighting my thirst.

"What?" she finally said. "Are you speaking to me again?" There was an edge of resentment to her tone that was, like her anger, endearing. It made me want to smile. I wasn't sure how to answer her question. Was I speaking to her again, in the sense that she meant?

No. Not if I could help it. I would try to help it.

"No, not really," I told her.

She closed her eyes, which frustrated me. It cut off my best avenue of access to her feelings. She took a long, slow breath without opening her eyes. Her jaw was locked.

Eyes still closed, she spoke. Surely this was not a normal human way to converse. Why did she do it?

"Then what do you want, Edythe?"

The sound of my name on her lips did strange things to my body. If I'd had a heartbeat, it would have quickened.

But how to answer her?

With the truth, I decided. I would be as truthful as I could with her from now on. I didn't want to deserve her distrust, even if earning her trust was impossible.

"I'm sorry," I told her. That was truer than she would ever know. Unfortunately, I could only safely apologize for the trivial. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."

I would be better for her if I could keep it up, continue to be rude. Could I? Her eyes opened, their expression still wary.

"I don't know what you mean."

I tried to get as much of a warning through to her as was allowed. "It's better if we're not friends." Surely, she could sense that much. She was a bright girl. "Trust me."

Her eyes tightened, and I remembered that I had said those words to her before - just before breaking a promise. I winced when her teeth clenched together - she clearly remembered, too.

"It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," she said angrily. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."

I stared at her in shock. What did she know of my regrets?

"Regret? Regret for what?" I demanded.

"For not just letting that stupid van squish me!" she snapped.

I froze, stunned.

How could she be thinking that? Saving her life was the one acceptable thing I'd done since I met her. The one thing that I was not ashamed of. The one and only thing that made me glad I existed at all. I'd been fighting to keep her alive since the first moment I'd caught her scent. How could she think this of me? How dare she question my one good deed in all this mess?

"You think I regret saving your life?"

"I know you do," she retorted.

Her estimation of my intentions left me seething. "You don't know anything."

How confusing and incomprehensible the workings of her mind were! She must not think in the same way as other humans at all. That must be the explanation behind her mental silence. She was entirely other.

She jerked her face away, gritting her teeth again. Her cheeks were flushed, with anger this time. She slammed her books together in a pile, yanked them up into her arms, and marched toward the door without meeting my stare.

Even irritated as I was, it was impossible not to find her anger a bit entertaining. She walked stiffly, without looking where she was going, and her foot caught on the lip of the doorway. She stumbled, and her things all crashed to the ground. Instead of bending to get them, she stood rigidly straight, not even looking down, as if she were not sure the books were worth retrieving.

I managed not to laugh.

No one was here to watch me; I flitted to her side, and had her books put in order before she looked down.

She bent halfway, saw me, and then froze. I handed her books back to her, making sure that my icy skin never touched hers.

"Thank you," she said in a cold, severe voice.

Her tone brought back my irritation.

"You're welcome," I said just as coldly.

She wrenched herself upright and stomped away to her next class.

I watched until I could no longer see her angry figure.

Spanish passed in a blur. Mrs. Goff never questioned my abstraction - she knew my Spanish was superior to hers, and she gave me a great deal of latitude - leaving me free to think.

So, I couldn't ignore the girl. That much was obvious. But did it mean I had no choice but to destroy her? That could not be the only available future. There had to be some other choice, some delicate balance. I tried to think of a way...

I didn't pay much attention to Emmett until the hour was nearly up. He was curious - Emmett was not overly intuitive about the shades in other's moods, but he could see the obvious change in me. He wondered what had happened to remove the unrelenting glower from my face. He struggled to define the change, and finally decided that I looked hopeful.

Hopeful? Is that what it looked like from the outside?

I pondered the idea of hope as we walked to the Volvo, wondering what exactly I should be hoping for.

But I didn't have long to ponder. Sensitive as I always was to thoughts about the girl, the sound of Bella's name in the heads of...of my rivals, I suppose I had to admit, caught my attention. Eric and Tyler, having heard - with much satisfaction - of Mike's failure, were preparing to make their moves.

Eric was already in place, positioned against her truck where she could not avoid him. Tyler's class was being held late to receive an assignment, and he was in a desperate hurry to catch her before she escaped.

This I had to see.

"Wait for the others here, all right?" I murmured to Emmett.

He eyed me suspiciously, but then shrugged and nodded.

KID'S LOST HER MIND, he thought, amused by my odd request.

I saw Bella on her way out of the gym, and I waited where she would not see me for her to pass. As she got closer to Eric's ambush, I strode forward, setting my pace so that I would walk by at the right moment.

I watched her body stiffen when she caught sight of the boy waiting for her. She froze for a moment, then relaxed and moved forward.

"Hi, Eric," I heard her call in a friendly voice.

I was abruptly and unexpectedly anxious. What if this gangly teen with his unhealthy skin was somehow pleasing to her?

Eric swallowed loudly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Hi, Bella."

She seemed unconscious of his nervousness.

"What's up?" she asked, unlocking her truck without looking at his frightened expression.

"Uh, I was just wondering...if you would go to the spring dance with me?" His voice broke.

She finally looked up. Was she taken aback, or pleased? Eric couldn't meet her gaze, so I couldn't see her face in his mind.

"I thought it was girl's choice," she said, sounding flustered.

"Well, yeah," he agreed wretchedly.

This pitiable boy did not irritate me as much as Mike Newton did, but I couldn't find it in myself to feel sympathy for his angst until after Bella had answered him in a gentle voice.

"Thank you for asking me, but I'm going to be in Seattle that day."

He'd already heard this; still, it was a disappointment.

"Oh," he mumbled, barely daring to raise his eyes to the level of her nose.

"Maybe next time."

"Sure," she agreed. Then she bit down on her lip, as if she regretted leaving him a loophole. I liked that.

Eric slumped forward and walked away, headed in the wrong direction from his car, his only thought escape.

I passed her in that moment, and heard her sigh of relief. I laughed.

She whirled at the sound, but I stared straight ahead, trying to keep my lips from twitching in amusement.

Tyler was behind me, almost running in his hurry to catch her before she could drive away. He was bolder and more confident than the other two; he'd only waited to approach Bella this long because he'd respected Mike's prior claim.

I wanted him to succeed in catching her for two reasons. If - as I was beginning to suspect - all this attention was annoying to Bella, I wanted to enjoy watching her reaction. But, if it was not - if Tyler's invitation was the one she'd been hoping for - then I wanted to know that, too.

I measured Tyler Crowley as a rival, knowing it was wrong to do so. He seemed tediously average and unremarkable to me, but what did I know of Bella's preferences? Maybe she liked average boys...

I winced at that thought. I could never be an average boy. How foolish it was to set myself up as a rival for her affections. How could she ever care for someone who was, by any estimation, a monster?

She was too good for a monster.

I ought to have let her escape, but my inexcusable curiosity kept me from doing what was right. Again. But what if Tyler missed his chance now, only to contact her later when I would have no way of knowing the outcome? I pulled my Volvo out into the narrow lane, blocking her exit.

Emmett and the others were on their way, but he'd described my strange behavior to them, and they were walking slowly, watching me, trying to decipher what I was doing.

I watched the girl in my rearview mirror. She glowered toward the back of my car without meeting my gaze, looking as if she wished she were driving a tank rather than a rusted Chevy.

Tyler hurried to his car and got in line behind her, grateful for my inexplicable behavior. He waved at her, trying to catch her attention, but she didn't notice. He waited a moment, and then left his car, sauntering up to her passenger side window. He tapped on the glass.

She jumped, and then stared at him in confusion. After a second, she rolled the window down manually, seeming to have some trouble with it.

"I'm sorry, Tyler," she said, her voice irritated. "I'm stuck behind Cullen." She said my surname in a hard voice - she was still angry with me.

"Oh, I know," Tyler said, undeterred by her mood. "I just wanted to ask you something while we're trapped here."

His grin was cocky.

I was gratified by the way she blanched at his obvious intent.

"Will you ask me to the spring dance?" he asked, no thought of defeat in his head. "I'm not going to be in town, Tyler," she told him, irritation still plain in her voice.

"Yeah, Mike said that."

"Then why - ?" she stared to ask.

He shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting him down easy."

Her eyes flashed, then cooled. "Sorry, Tyler," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "I really am going to be out of town."

He accepted that excuse, his self-assurance untouched. "That's cool. We still have prom."

He strutted back to his car.

I was right to have waited for this.

The horrified expression on her face was priceless. It told me what I should not so desperately need to know - that she had no feelings for any of these human males who wished to court her.

Also, her expression was possibly the funniest thing I'd ever seen.

My family arrived then, confused by the fact that I was, for a change, rocking with laughter rather than scowling murderously at everything in sight.

WHAT'S SO FUNNY? Emmett wanted to know.

I just shook my head while I also shook with fresh laughter as Bella revved her noisy engine angrily. She looked like she was wishing for a tank again. "Let's go!" Rosalie hissed impatiently. "Stop being an idiot. If you can." Her words didn't annoy me - I was too entertained. But I did as she asked. No one spoke to me on the way home. I continued to chuckle every now and again, thinking of Bella's face.

As I turned on to the drive - speeding up now that there were no witnesses - Alice ruined my mood.

"So do I get to talk to Bella now?" she asked suddenly, without considering the words first, thus giving me no warning.

"No," I snapped.

"Not fair! What am I waiting for?"

"I haven't decided anything, Alice."

"Whatever, Edythe."

In her head, Bella's two destinies were clear again.

"What's the point in getting to know her?" I mumbled, suddenly morose. "If I'm just going to kill her?"

Alice hesitated for a second. "You have a point," she admitted.

I took the final hairpin turn at ninety miles an hour, and then screeched to a stop an inch from the back garage wall.

"Enjoy your run," Rosalie said smugly as I threw myself out of the car.

But I didn't go running today. Instead, I went hunting.

The others were scheduled to hunt tomorrow, but I couldn't afford to be thirsty now. I overdid it, drinking more than necessary, glutting myself again - a small grouping of elk and one black bear I was lucky to stumble across this early in the year. I was so full it was uncomfortable. Why couldn't that be enough? Why did her scent have to be so much stronger than anything else?

I had hunted in preparation for the next day, but, when I could hunt no more and the sun was still hours and hours from rising, I knew that the next day was not soon enough.

The jittery high swept through me again when I realized that I was going to go find the girl.

I argued with myself all the way back to Forks, but my less noble side won the argument, and I went ahead with my indefensible plan. The monster was restless but well-fettered. I knew I would keep a safe distance from her. I only wanted to know where she was. I just wanted to see her face.

It was past midnight, and Bella's house was dark and quiet. Her truck was parked against the curb, her father's police cruiser in the driveway. There were no conscious thoughts anywhere in the neighborhood. I watched the house for a moment from the blackness of the forest that bordered it on the east. The front door would probably be locked - not a problem, except that I didn't want to leave a broken door as evidence behind me. I decided to try the upstairs window first. Not many people would bother installing a lock there.

I crossed the open yard and scaled the face of the house in half a second.

Dangling from the eave above the window by one hand, I looked through the glass, and my breath stopped.

It was her room. I could see her in the one small bed, her covers on the floor and her sheets twisted around her legs. As I watched, she twitched restlessly and threw one arm over her head. She did not sleep soundly, at least not this night. Did she sense the danger near her?

I was repulsed by myself as I watched her toss again. How was I any better than some sick peeping tom? I wasn't any better. I was much, much worse.

I relaxed my fingertips, about to let myself drop. But first I allowed myself one long look at her face.

It was not peaceful. The little furrow was there between her eyebrows, the corners of her lips turned down. Her lips trembled, and then parted.

"Okay, Mom," she muttered.

Bella talked in her sleep.

Curiosity flared, overpowering self-disgust. The lure of those unprotected, unconsciously spoken thoughts was impossibly tempting.

I tried the window, and it was not locked, though it stuck due to long disuse. I slid it slowly aside, cringing at each faint groan of the metal frame. I would have to find some oil for next time...

Next time? I shook my head, disgusted again.

I eased myself silently through the half-opened window.

Her room was small - disorganized but not unclean. There were books piled on the floor beside her bed, their spines facing away from me, and CDs scattered by her inexpensive CD player - the one on top was just a clear jewel case. Stacks of papers surrounded a computer that looked like it belonged in a museum dedicated to obsolete technologies. Shoes dotted the wooden floor.

I wanted very much to go read the titles of her books and CDs, but I'd promised myself that I would keep my distance; instead, I went to sit the old rocking chair in the far corner of the room.

Had I really once thought her average-looking? I thought of that first day, and my disgust for the boys who were so immediately intrigued with her. But when I remembered her face in their minds now, I could not understand why I had not found her beautiful immediately. It seemed an obvious thing.

Right now - with her dark hair tangled and wild around her pale face, wearing a threadbare t-shirt full of holes with tatty sweatpants, her features relaxed in unconsciousness, her full lips slightly parted - she took my breath away. Or would have, I thought wryly, if I were breathing.

She did not speak. Perhaps her dream had ended.

I stared at her face and tried to think of some way to make the future bearable.

Hurting her was not bearable. Did that mean my only choice was to try to leave again?

The others could not argue with me now. My absence would not put anyone in danger. There would be no suspicion, nothing to link anyone's thoughts back to the accident.

I wavered as I had this afternoon, and nothing seemed possible.

I could not hope to rival the human boys, whether these specific boys appealed to her or not. I was a monster. How could she see me as anything else? If she knew the truth about me, it would frighten and repulse her. Like the intended victim in a horror movie, she would run away, shrieking in terror.

I remembered her first day in biology...and knew that this was exactly the right reaction for her to have.

It was foolishness to imagine that if had I been the one to ask her to the silly dance, she would have cancelled her hastily-made plans and agreed to go with me. I was not the one she was destined to say yes to. It was someone else, someone human and warm. And I could not even let myself - someday, when that yes was said - hunt him down and kill him, because she deserved him, whoever he was. She deserved happiness and love with whomever she chose.

I owed it to her to do the right thing now; I could no longer pretend that I was only in danger of loving this girl.

After all, it really didn't matter if I left, because Bella could never see me the way I wished she would. Never see me as someone worthy of love.

Never.

Could a dead, frozen heart break? It felt like mine would.

"Edythe," Bella said.

I froze, staring at her unopened eyes.

Had she woken, caught me here? She looked asleep, yet her voice had been so clear...

She sighed a quiet sigh, and then moved restlessly again, rolling to her side - still fast asleep and dreaming.

"Edythe," she mumbled softly.

She was dreaming of me.

Could a dead, frozen heart beat again? It felt like mine was about to.

"Stay," she sighed. "Don't go. Please...don't go."

She was dreaming of me, and it wasn't even a nightmare. She wanted me to stay with her, there in her dream.

I struggled to find words to name the feelings that flooded through me, but I had no words strong enough to hold them. For a long moment, I drowned in them.

When I surfaced, I was not the same woman I had been.

My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?

At the time that I had become a vampire, trading my soul and my mortality for immortality in the searing pain of transformation, I had truly been frozen. My body had turned into something more like rock than flesh, enduring and unchanging. My self, also, had frozen as it was - my personality, my likes and my dislikes, my moods and my desires; all were fixed in place.

It was the same for the rest of them. We were all frozen. Living stone.

When change came for one of us, it was a rare and permanent thing. I had seen it happen with Carlisle, and then a decade later with Rosalie. Love had changed them in an eternal way, a way that never faded. More than eighty years had passed since Carlisle had found Esme, and yet he still looked at her with the incredulous eyes of first love. It would always be that way for them.

It would always be that way for me, too. I would always love this fragile human girl, for the rest of my limitless existence.

I gazed at her unconscious face, feeling this love for her settle into every portion of my stone body.

She slept more peacefully now, a slight smile on her lips.

Always watching her, I began to plot.

I loved her, and so I would try to be strong enough to leave her. I knew I wasn't that strong now. I would work on that one. But perhaps I was strong enough to circumvent the future in another way.

Alice had seen only two futures for Bella, and now I understood them both.

Loving her would not keep me from killing her, if I let myself make mistakes.

Yet I could not feel the monster now, could not find her anywhere in me.

Perhaps love had silenced her forever. If I killed her now, it would not be intentional, only a horrible accident.

I would have to be inordinately careful. I would never, ever be able to let my guard down. I would have to control my every breath. I would have to keep an always cautious distance.

I would not make mistakes.

I finally understood that second future. Maybe I could be with her while she was still human. Maybe I could even ask Carlisle to change her. I wouldn't trust myself to do that. Yet Alice didn't see that future. Which I found comforting though. I would hate to have her endure a life like mine.

She deserved better.

I saw future, one thin wire that I might be able to walk, if I could keep my balance.

Could I do it? Be with her and leave her human?

Deliberately, I took a deep breath, and then another, letting her scent rip through me like wildfire. The room was thick with her perfume; her fragrance was layered on every surface. My head swam, but I fought the spinning. I would have to get used to this, if I were going to attempt any kind of relationship with her. I took another deep, burning breath.

I watched her sleeping until the sun rose behind the eastern clouds, plotting and breathing.

I got home just after the others had left for school. I changed quickly, avoiding Esme's questioning eyes. She saw the feverish light in my face, and she felt both worry and relief. My long melancholy had pained her, and she was glad it seemed to be over.

I ran to school, arriving a few seconds after my siblings did. They did not turn, though Alice at least must have known that I stood here in the thick woods that bordered the pavement. I waited until no one was looking, and then I strolled casually from between the trees into the lot full of parked cars.

I heard Bella's truck rumbling around the corner, and I paused behind a Suburban, where I could watch without being seen.

She drove into the lot, glaring at my Volvo for a long moment before she parked in one of the most distant spaces, a frown on her face.

It was strange to remember that she was probably still angry with me, and with good reason.

I wanted to laugh at myself - or kick myself. All my plotting and planning was entirely moot if she didn't care for me, too, wasn't it? Her dream could have been about something completely random. I was such an arrogant fool.

Well, it was so much the better for her if she didn't care for me. That wouldn't stop me from pursuing her, but I would give her fair warning as I pursued. I owed her that.

I walked silently forward, wondering how best to approach her.

She made it easy. Her truck key slipped through her fingers as she got out, and fell into a deep puddle.

She reached down, but I got to it first, retrieving it before she had to put her fingers in the cold water.

I leaned back against her truck as she started and then straightened up.

"How do you do that?" she demanded.

Yes, she was still angry.

I offered her the key. "Do what?"

She held her hand out, and I dropped the key in her palm. I took a deep breath, pulling in her scent.

"Appear out of thin air," she clarified.

"Bella, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant." The words were wry, almost a joke. Was there anything she didn't see?

Did she hear how my voice wrapped around her name like a caress?

She glared at me, not appreciating my humor. Her heartbeat sped - from anger? From fear? After a moment, she looked down.

"Why the traffic jam last night?" she asked without meeting my eyes. "I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."

Still very angry. It was going to take some effort to make things right with her. I remembered my resolve to be truthful with her...

"That was for Tyler's sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance." And then I laughed. I couldn't help it, thinking of her expression yesterday.

"You - " she gasped, and then broke off, appearing to be too furious to finish.

There it was - that same expression. I choked back another laugh. She was mad enough already.

"And I'm not pretending you don't exist," I finished. It was right to keep this casual, teasing. She would not understand if I let her see how I really felt. I would frighten her. I had to keep my feelings in check, keep things light...

"So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler's van didn't do the job?"

A quick flash of anger pulsed through me. Could she honestly believe that?

It was irrational for me to be so affronted - she didn't know of the transformation that had happened in the night. But I was angry all the same.

"Bella, you are utterly absurd," I snapped.

Her face flushed, and she turned her back on me. She began to walk away.

Remorse. I had no right to my anger.

"Wait," I pleaded.

She did not stop, so I followed after her.

"I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm not saying it isn't true" - it was absurd to imagine that I wanted her harmed in any way - "but it was rude to say it, anyway."

"Why won't you leave me alone?"

Believe me, I wanted to say. I've tried.

Oh, and also, I'm wretchedly in love with you.

Keep it light.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me." A course of action had just occurred to me, and I laughed.

"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" she asked.

It must seem that way. My mood was erratic, so many new emotions coursing through me.

"You're doing it again," I pointed out.

She sighed. "Fine then. What do you want to ask?"

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday..." I watched the shock cross her face, and choked back another laugh. "You know, the day of the spring dance - "

She cut me off, finally returning her eyes to mine. "Are you trying to be funny?" 

Yes. "Will you let me finish?"

She waited in silence, her teeth pressing into her soft lower lip.

That sight distracted me for a second. Strange, unfamiliar reactions stirred deep in my forgotten human core. I tried to shake them off so I could play my role.

"I heard you say that you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride?" I offered. I'd realized that, better than just questioning her about her plans, I might share them.

She stared at me blankly. "What?"

"Do you want a ride to Seattle?" Alone in a car with her - my throat burned at the thought. I took a deep breath. Get used to it.

"With who?" she asked, her eyes wide and bewildered again.

"Myself, obviously," I said slowly.

"Why?"

Was it really such as shock that I would want her company? She must have applied the worst possible meaning to my past behavior.

"Well," I said as casually as possible, "I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it." It seemed safer to tease her than to allow myself to be serious.

"My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern," she said in the same surprised voice. She started walking again. I kept pace with her.

She hadn't really said no, so I pressed that advantage.

Would she say no? What would I do if she did?

"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?"

"I don't see how that is any of your business," she grumbled.

That still wasn't a no. And her heart was beating faster again, her breath coming more quickly.

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."

"Honestly, Edythe, I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."

A thrill shot through me when she spoke my name.

How to keep it light and yet be honest at the same time? Well, it was more important to be honest. Especially on this point.

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be." 

"Oh, thanks, now that's all cleared up," she said sarcastically.

She paused, under the edge of the cafeteria's roof, and met my gaze again. Her heartbeats stuttered. Was she afraid?

I chose my words carefully. No, I could not leave her, but maybe she would be smart enough to leave me, before it was too late.

"It would be more...prudent for you not to be my friend." Staring into the melted chocolate depths of her eyes, I lost my hold on light. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella." The words burned with much too much fervor.

Her breathing stopped and, in the second it took for it to restart, that worried me.

How much had I scared her? Well, I would find out.

"Will you go to Seattle with me?" I demanded, point blank.

She nodded, her heart drumming loudly.

Yes. She'd said yes to me.

And then my conscious smote me. What would this cost her?

"You really should stay away from me," I warned her. Did she hear me? Would she escape the future I was threatening her with? Couldn't I do anything to save her from me?

Keep it light, I shouted at myself. "I'll see you in class."

I had to concentrate to stop myself from running as I fled.


	7. BLOOD TYPE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clues, clues, clues. Edythe is a vampire so no biology on blood typing day for her. What else is going on here?

I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first walked in that class had already started.

"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone. I flushed and hurried to my seat.

It wasn't till class ended that Irealized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric both met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven. Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I tried to sound eager, to make up for disappointing him yesterday. It was hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if we were lucky.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe that I hadn't just imagined what Edythe had said, and the way her eyes had looked. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused with reality. That seemed more probable than that I really appealed to her on any level.

So I was impatient and frightened as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria. I wanted to see her face, to see if she'd gone back to the cold, indifferent person I'd known for the last several weeks. Or if, by some miracle, I'd really heard what I thought I'd heard this morning. Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans — Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together — completely unaware of my inattention.

Disappointment flooded through me as my eyes unerringly focused on her table. The other four were there, but she was absent. Had she gone home? I followed the still-babbling Jessica through the line, crushed. I'd lost my appetite — I bought nothing but a bottle of lemonade. I just wanted to go sit down and sulk.

"Edythe Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica said, finally breaking through my abstraction with her name. "I wonder why she's sitting alone today."

My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Edythe, smiling at me with dimples showing, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where she usually sat. Once she'd caught my eye, she raised one hand and motioned with her index finger for me to join her. As I stared in disbelief, she winked.

"Does she mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her voice.

"Maybe she needs help with her Biology homework," I muttered for her benefit. "Um, I'd better go see what she wants."

I could feel her staring after me as I walked away.

When I reached her table, I stood behind the chair across from her, unsure.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" she asked, smiling.

I sat down automatically, watching her with caution. She was still smiling. It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real. I was afraid that she might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and I would wake up.

She seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"This is different," I finally managed.

"Well…" She paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

I waited for her to say something that made sense. The seconds ticked by.

"You know I don't have any idea what you mean," I eventually pointed out.

"I know." She smiled again, and then she changed the subject. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."

"They'll survive." I could feel their stares boring into my back.

"I may not give you back, though," she said with a wicked glint in her eyes. I gulped. She laughed. "You look worried."

"No," I said, but, ridiculously, my voice broke. "Surprised, actually… what brought all this on?"

"I told you — I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." She was still smiling, but her long eyes were serious.

"Giving up?" I repeated in confusion.

"Yes — giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." Her smile faded as she explained, and a hard edge crept into her voice.

"You lost me again."

The breathtaking dimpled smile reappeared.

"I always say too much when I'm talking to you — that's one of the problems."

"Don't worry — I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.

"I'm counting on that."

"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"

"Friends…" she mused, dubious.

"Or not," I muttered.

She grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you."

Behind her smile, the warning was real.

"You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in my stomach and keep my voice even.

"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too." My eyes narrowed.

She smiled apologetically.

"So, as long as I'm being… not smart, we'll try to be friends?" I struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.

"That sounds about right."

I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now.

"What are you thinking?" she asked curiously.

I looked up into her deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

Her jaw tightened, but she kept her smile in place with some effort.

"Are you having any luck with that?" she asked in an offhand tone.

"Not too much," I admitted.

She chuckled. "What are your theories?"

I blushed. I had been vacillating during the last month between Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker. There was no way I was going to own up to that.

"Won't you tell me?" she asked, tilting her head to one side with a shockingly tempting smile.

I shook my head. "Too embarrassing."

"That's really frustrating, you know," she complained.

"No," I disagreed quickly, my eyes narrowing, "I can't imagine why that would be frustrating at all — just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean… now, why would that be frustrating?"

She grimaced.

"Or better," I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things — from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and she never explained any of that, either, even after she promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating."

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"

"I don't like double standards."

We stared at each other, unsmiling.

She glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, she snickered.

"What?"

"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you — he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." She snickered again.

"I don't know who you're talking about," I said frostily. "But I'm sure you're wrong, anyway."

"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."

"Except me, of course."

"Yes. Except for you." Her mood shifted suddenly; her eyes turned brooding. "I wonder why that is."

I had to look away from the intensity of her stare. I concentrated on unscrewing the lid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, distracted.

"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full — of butterflies. "You?" I looked at the empty table in front of her.

"No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand her expression — it looked like she was enjoying some private joke.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second of hesitation.

She was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."

"It's not much," I assured her.

She waited, guarded but curious.

"I just wondered… if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared." I looked at the lemonade bottle as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my pinkie finger.

"That sounds fair." She was pressing her lips together to keep from laughing when I looked up.

"Thanks."

"Then can I have one answer in return?" she demanded.

"One."

"Tell me one theory."

Whoops. "Not that one."

"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," she reminded me.

"And you've broken promises yourself," I reminded her back.

"Just one theory — I won't laugh."

"Yes, you will." I was positive about that.

She looked down, and then glanced up at me through her long black lashes, her ocher eyes scorching.

"Please?" she breathed, leaning toward me.

I blinked, my mind going blank. Holy crow, how did she do that?

"Er, what?" I asked, dazed.

"Please tell me just one little theory." Her eyes still smoldered at me.

"Um, well, bitten by a radioactive spider?" Was she a hypnotist, too? Or was I just a hopeless pushover?

"That's not very creative," she scoffed.

"I'm sorry, that's all I've got," I said, miffed.

"You're not even close," she teased.

"No spiders?"

"Nope."

"And no radioactivity?"

"None."

"Dang," I sighed.

"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," she chuckled.

"You're not supposed to laugh, remember?"

She struggled to compose her face.

"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned her.

"I wish you wouldn't try." She was serious again.

"Because… ?"

"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" She smiled playfully, but her eyes were impenetrable.

"Oh," I said, as several things she'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see."

"Do you?" Her face was abruptly severe, as if she were afraid that she'd accidentally said too much.

"You're dangerous?" I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the truth of my own words.

She was dangerous. She'd been trying to tell me that all along.

She just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend.

"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."

"You're wrong." Her voice was almost inaudible. She looked down, stealing my bottle lid and the spinning it on its side between her fingers. I stared at her, wondering why I didn't feel afraid. She meant what she was saying — that was obvious. But I just felt anxious, on edge… and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way I always felt when I was near her.

The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.

I jumped to my feet. "We're going to be late."

"I'm not going to class today," she said, twirling the lid so fast it was just a blur.

"Why not?"

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." She smiled up at me, but her eyes were still troubled.

"Well, I'm going," I told her. I was far too big a coward to risk getting caught.

She turned her attention back to her makeshift top. "I'll see you later, then."

I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me hurrying out the door — with a last glance confirming that she hadn't moved a centimeter.

As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning faster than the bottle cap. So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped.

I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela were staring at me. Mike looked resentful; Angela looked surprised, and slightly awed.

Mr. Banner came in the room then, calling the class to order. He was juggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Mike's table, telling him to start passing them around the class.

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he said as he produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled them on. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against his wrists seemed ominous to me. "The first should be an indicator card," he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator —" he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick "— and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you." He began at Mike's table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares.

"Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet…" He grabbed Mike's hand and jabbed the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger. Oh no. Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing Mike's finger till the blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively, my stomach heaving.

"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in my ears.

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." He sounded proud of himself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission — I have slips at my desk."

He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my cheek against the cool black tabletop and tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth.

"Bella, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, sir," I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching when I had the chance.

"Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" he called.

I didn't have to look up to know that it would be Mike who volunteered.

"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Yes," I whispered. Just let me get out of here, I thought. I'll crawl.

Mike seemed eager as he put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. I leaned against him heavily on the way out of the classroom.

Mike towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Banner was watching, I stopped.

"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I begged.

He helped me sit on the edge of the walk.

"And whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket," I warned. I was still so dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes.

That seemed to help a little.

"Wow, you're green, Bella," Mike said nervously.

"Bella?" a different voice called from the distance.

No! Please let me be imagining that horribly familiar voice.

"What's wrong — is she hurt?" Her voice was closer now, and she sounded upset. I wasn't imagining it I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not to throw up.

Mike seemed stressed. "I think she's fainted. I don't know what happened, she didn't even stick her finger."

"Bella." Edythe's voice was right beside me, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"

"No," I groaned. "Go away."

She chuckled.

"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike explained in a defensive tone, "but she wouldn't go any farther."

"I'll take her," Edythe said. I could hear the smile still in her voice. "You can go back to class."

"No," Mike protested. "I'm supposed to do it."

Suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock. Edythe had scooped me up in her arms, as easily as if I weighed ten pounds instead of a hundred and ten.

"Put me down!" Please, please let me not vomit on her. She was walking before I was finished talking.

"Hey!" Mike called, already ten paces behind us.

Edythe ignored him. "You look awful," she told me, grinning.

"Put me back on the sidewalk," I moaned. The rocking movement of her walk was not helping. She held me away from her body, gingerly, supporting all my weight with just her arms — it didn't seem to bother her. There was no way she weighed more than me. There was no way she could carry me. Yet she wasn't even breaking a sweat, and her breath showed no extra effort at all.

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" she asked. This seemed to entertain her.

I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again and fought the nausea with all my strength, clamping my lips together.

"And not even your own blood," she continued, enjoying herself.

I don't know how she opened the door while carrying me, but it was suddenly warm, so I knew we were inside.

"Oh my," I heard a female voice gasp.

"She fainted in Biology," Edythe explained.

I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Edythe was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office receptionist, ran ahead of her to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, as Edythe swung me into the room and placed me gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the one cot. Then she moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible. Her eyes were bright, excited.

"She's just a little faint," she reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology."

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."

She muffled a snicker.

"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading.

"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I admitted. Edythe coughed to hide another laugh.

"You can go back to class now," she told him.

"I'm supposed to stay with her." She said this with such assured authority that — even though she pursed her lips — the nurse didn't argue it further.

"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, and then bustled out of the room.

"You were right," I moaned, letting my eyes close.

"I usually am — but about what in particular this time?"

"Ditching is healthy." I practiced breathing evenly.

"You scared me for a minute there," she admitted after a pause. His tone made it sound like she was confessing a humiliating weakness. "I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

"Ha ha." I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling more normal every minute.

"Honestly — I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder."

"Poor Mike. I'll bet he's mad."

"He absolutely loathes me," Edythe said cheerfully.

"You can't know that," I argued, but then I wondered suddenly if she could.

"I saw his face — I could tell."

"How did you see me? I thought you were ditching." I was almost fine now, though the queasiness would probably pass faster if I'd eaten something for lunch. On the other hand, maybe it was lucky my stomach was empty.

"I was in my car, listening to a CD." Such a normal response — it surprised me.

I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in her hand.

"Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better," she added.

"I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in my ears, no spinning. The mint green walls stayed where they should.

I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.

"We've got another one," she warned.

I hopped down to free up the cot for the next invalid.

I handed the compress back to the nurse. "Here, I don't need this."

And then Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens, another boy in our Biology class. Edythe and I drew back against the wall to give them room.

"Oh no," Edythe muttered. "Go out to the office, Bella."

I looked up at her, bewildered.

"Trust me — go."

I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could feel Edythe right behind me.

"You actually listened to me." She was stunned.

"I smelled the blood," I said, wrinkling my nose. Lee wasn't sick from watching other people, like me.

"People can't smell blood," she contradicted.

"Well, I can — that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust… and salt."

She was staring at me with an unfathomable expression.

"What?" I asked.

"It's nothing."

Mike came through the door then, glancing from me to Edythe. The look he gave Edythe confirmed what Edythe had said about loathing. He looked back at me, his eyes glum.

"You look better," he accused.

"Just keep your hand in your pocket," I warned him again.

"It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding? I'd just have to turn around and come back."

"Yeah, I guess… So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While he spoke, he flashed another glare toward Edythe, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

I tried to sound as friendly as possible. "Sure, I said I was in."

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Edythe again, wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language made it clear that it wasn't an open invitation.

"I'll be there," I promised.

"I'll see you in Gym, then," he said, moving uncertainly toward the door.

"See you," I replied. He looked at me once more, his round face slightly pouting, and then as he walked slowly through the door, his shoulders slumped. A swell of sympathy washed over me. I pondered seeing his disappointed face again… in Gym.

"Gym," I groaned.

"I can take care of that." I hadn't noticed Edythe moving to my side, but she spoke now in my ear. "Go sit down and look pale," she muttered.

That wasn't a challenge; I was always pale, and my recent swoon had left a light sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting spells always exhausted me.

I heard Edythe speaking softly at the counter.

"Ms. Cope?"

"Yes?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk.

"Bella has Gym next hour, and I don't think she feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take her home now. Do you think you could excuse her from class?" Her voice was like melting honey. I could imagine how much more overwhelming her eyes would be.

"Do you need to be excused, too, Edythe?" Ms. Cope fluttered. Why couldn't I do that?

"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."

"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Bella," she called to me. I nodded weakly, hamming it up  
just a bit.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With her back to the receptionist, her expression became sarcastic.

"I'll walk."

I stood carefully, and I was still fine. She held the door for me, her smile polite but her eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice — the first time I'd enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of the sky — as it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration.

"Thanks," I said as she followed me out. "It's almost worth getting sick to miss Gym."

"Anytime." She was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

"So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" I was hoping she would, though it seemed unlikely. I couldn't picture her loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; she didn't belong in the same world. But just hoping that she might gave me the first twinge of enthusiasm I'd felt for the outing.

"Where are you all going, exactly?" She was still looking ahead, expressionless.

"Down to La Push, to First Beach." I studied her face, trying to read it. His eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally.

She glanced down at me from the corner of her eye, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited."

I sighed. "I just invited you."

"Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to snap." Her eyes danced; she was enjoying the idea more than she should.

"Mike-schmike." I muttered, preoccupied by the way she'd said "you and I." I liked it more than I should.

We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck. Something caught my jacket, yanking me back.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, outraged. She was gripping a fistful of my jacket in one hand. I was confused. "I'm going home."

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?" Her voice was still indignant.

"What condition? And what about my truck?" I complained.

"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." She was towing me toward her car now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from falling backward. She'd probably just drag me along anyway if I did. Which made no sense. She was practically my size. Maybe even a bit smaller. I again had no idea how she held me earlier. I bet that was a weird sight to see. But she was incredibly strong that was for sure.

"Let go!" I insisted. She ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then she finally freed me — I stumbled against the passenger door.

"You are so pushy!" I grumbled.

"It's open," was all she responded. She got in the driver's side.

"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!" I stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and I'd never put my hood up, so my hair was dripping down my back.

She lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. "Get in, Bella."

I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching the truck before she could catch me. I had to admit, they weren't good.

"I'll just drag you back," she threatened, guessing my plan.

I tried to maintain what dignity I could as I got into her car. I wasn't very successful — I looked like a half-drowned cat and my boots squeaked.

"This is completely unnecessary," I said stiffly.

She didn't answer. She fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As she pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give her the silent treatment — my face in full pout mode — but then I recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions.

"Clair de Lune?" I asked, surprised.

"You know Debussy?" She sounded surprised, too.

"Not well," I admitted. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house — I only know my favorites."

"It's one of my favorites, too." She stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn't feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

"What is your mother like?" she asked me suddenly.

I glanced over to see her studying me with curious eyes.

"She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier," I said. She raised his eyebrows. "I have too much Charlie in me. She's more outgoing than I am, and braver. She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's my best friend." I stopped. Talking about her was making me depressed.

"How old are you, Bella?" Her voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn't imagine. She'd stopped the car, and I realized we were at Charlie's house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.

"I'm seventeen," I responded, a little confused.

"You don't seem seventeen."

Her tone was reproachful; it made me laugh.

"What?" she asked, curious again.

"My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." I laughed, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult." I paused for a second. "You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself," I noted.

She made a face and changed the subject.

"So why did your mother marry Phil?"

I was surprised she would remember the name; I'd mentioned it just once, almost two months ago. It took me a moment to answer.

"My mother… she's very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she's crazy about him." I shook my head. The attraction was a mystery to me.

"Do you approve?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" I countered. "I want her to be happy… and he is who she wants."

"That's very generous… I wonder," she mused.

"What?"

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?" She was suddenly intent, her eyes searching mine.

"I-I think so," I stuttered. "But she's the parent, after all. It's a little bit different."

"No one too scary then," she teased.

I grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?"

"That's one definition, I suppose."

"What's your definition?"

But she ignored my question and asked me another. "Do you think that I could be scary?" She raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile lightened her face.

I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go over better. I decided to go with the truth. "Hmmm… I think you could be, if you wanted to."

"Are you frightened of me now?" The smile vanished, and her heavenly face was suddenly serious.

"No." But I answered too quickly. The smile returned.

"So, now are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked to distract her. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

She was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"

"The Cullens adopted you?" I verified.

"Yes."

I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?"

"They died many years ago." Her tone was matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now."

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way she spoke of them.

"Yes." She smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're very lucky."

"I know I am."

"And your brother and sister?"

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

"My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go." I didn't want to get out of the car.

"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." She grinned at me.

"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks." I sighed.

She laughed, and there was an edge to her laughter.

"Have fun at the beach… good weather for sunbathing." She glanced out at the sheeting rain.

"Won't I see you tomorrow?"

"No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."

"What are you going to do?" A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the disappointment wasn't too apparent in my voice.

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping frequently.

"Oh, well, have fun." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don't think I fooled her, though. A smile was playing around the edges of her lips.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" She turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of her burning gold eyes.

I nodded helplessly.

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So… try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?" She smiled dimples showing.

The helplessness had faded as she spoke. I glared at her.

"I'll see what I can do," I snapped as I jumped out into the rain. I slammed the door behind me with excessive force.

She was still smiling as she drove away.


	8. SCARY STORIES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first real interaction between Bella and Julie. Oh, how so much comes from this one conversation.

As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of Macbeth, I was really listening for my truck. I would have thought, even over the pounding rain, I could have heard the engine's roar. But when I went to peek out the curtain — again — it was suddenly there.

I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non-expectations. Of course there were the fainting comments. Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement. She did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.

"So what did Edythe Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "She never really got to the point."

"You looked kind of mad," she fished.

"Did I?" I kept my expression blank.

"You know, I've never seen her sit with anyone but her family before. That was weird."

"Weird," I agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark curls impatiently — I guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would make a good story for her to pass on.

The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew she wasn't going to be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, I couldn't keep from looking at her table, where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. And I couldn't stop the gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn't know how long I would have to wait before I saw her again.

At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Mike was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it. But it was warmer today — almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be completely miserable.

I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which I didn't understand until we were all walking out of the room together. I was right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware of that. "…don't know why Bella" — she sneered my name — "doesn't just sit with the Cullens from now on."

I heard her muttering to Mike. I'd never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice she had, and I was surprised by the malice in it. I really didn't know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike me — or so I'd thought. "She's my friend; she sits with us," Mike whispered back loyally, but also a bit territorially. I paused to let Jess and Angela pass me. I didn't want to hear any more.

That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now. Of course he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to approve. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edythe Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him.

"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.

"Yeah — why?"

I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."

"Oh," I murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes to see a clear yellow light streaming through my window. I couldn't believe it. I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid that if I left the blue would disappear again.

The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'd seen the store, but I'd never stopped there — not having much need for any supplies required for being outdoors over an extended period of time . In the parking lot I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with two other boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Jess was there, flanked by Angela and Lauren. Three other girls stood with them, including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday. That one gave me a dirty look as I got out of the truck, and whispered something to Lauren.

Lauren shook out her cornsilk hair and eyed me scornfully.

So it was going to be one of those days.

At least Mike was happy to see me.

"You came!" he called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny today, didn't I?"

"I told you I was coming," I reminded him.

"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha… unless you invited someone," Mike added.

"Nope," I lied lightly, hoping I wouldn't get caught in the lie. But also wishing that a miracle would occur, and Edythe would appear.

Mike looked satisfied.

"Will you ride in my car? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan."

"Sure."

He smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make Mike happy.

"You can have shotgun," he promised. I hid my chagrin. It wasn't as simple to make Mike and Jessica happy at the same time. I could see Jessica glowering at us now.

The numbers worked out in my favor, though. Lee brought two extra people, and suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess in between Mike and me in the front seat of the Suburban.

Mike could have been more graceful about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.

It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad I had the window seat.

We'd rolled the windows down — the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine people in it — and I tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible.

I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me. It was still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs.

The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just out of reach of the waves.

There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans floated on the swells while seagulls and a lone eagle wheeled above them. The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at any moment, but for now the sun shone bravely in its halo of blue sky.

We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before. There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric and the boy I thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a teepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sitting on one of the bone-colored benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping excitedly, on either side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire, lighting one of the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter.

"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.

"You'll like this then — watch the colors." He lit another small branch and laid it alongside the first.

The flames started to lick quickly up the dry wood.

"It's blue," I said in surprise.

"The salt does it. Pretty, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, placed it where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by me. Thankfully, Jess was on his other side. She turned to him and claimed his attention. I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky.

After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma.

On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the only things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal when you're seven and with your dad. It reminded me of Edythe's request — that I not fall into the ocean.

Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike, and she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it. Most of the other girls besides Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach as well. I waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to remaining with them before I got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave me a huge smile when he saw that I was coming.

The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods. The green light of the forest was strangely at odds with the adolescent laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter around me. I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and I soon fell behind. Eventually I broke through the emerald confines of the forest and found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to the sea.

Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely drained were teeming with life.

I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there cautiously, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return.

I was completely absorbed, except for one small part of my mind that wondered what Edythe was doing now, and trying to imagine what she would be saying if she were here with me.

Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back. I tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally I fell a few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse. When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black hair and copper skin of the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation come to socialize.

The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a share while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle. Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me in interest. I sat down next to Angela, and Mike brought us sandwiches and an array of sodas to choose from, while a boy who looked to be the oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with him. All I caught was that one of the girls was also named Jessica, and the girl who noticed me was named Jules.

It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind of person to be around — she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter. She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. And I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind. I knew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed me.

During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky, darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike — with Jessica shadowing him — headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time they all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with Lauren and Tyler occupying themselves by the CD player someone had thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around the circle, including the girl named Jules and the oldest boy who had acted as spokesperson.

A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jules sauntered over to take her place by my side.

She looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of her neck. Her skin was really beautiful, like coppery silk, hey dark eyes were wide-set above her cheekbones, and her lips were curved like a bow. It was a very pretty face. However, my positive opinion was damaged by the first words out of her mouth. 

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

It was like the first day of school all over again.

"Bella," I sighed.

"Right," she said, like she'd already known that. "I'm Julie Black." She held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You bought my dad's truck."

"Oh," I said, relieved, shaking her warm hand. "You're Billy's daughter. I probably should remember you."

"No, I'm the youngest of the family — you would remember my older sisters."

"Rachel and Rebecca," I suddenly recalled. Charlie and Billy had thrown us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We were all too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I'd kicked up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven. "... and Jules isn't it?"

She smiled. "You do remember. No one's called me that since my sisters left."

"They aren't here?" I examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if I would recognize them now.

"No." Jules shook her head. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer — she lives in Hawaii now."

"Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year older than I was.

"So how do you like the truck?" she asked.

"I love it. It runs great."

"Yeah, but it's really slow," she laughed. "I was so relived when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there."

"It's not that slow," I objected.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"No," I admitted.

"Good. Don't." She grinned.

I couldn't help grinning back. "It does great in a collision," I offered in my truck's defense.

"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," She agreed with another laugh.

"So you build cars?" I asked, impressed.

"When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" she added jokingly. She had an interesting voice, warm and kind of throaty.

"Sorry," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you." As if I knew what that was. She was very easy to talk with.

She flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively in a way I was learning to recognize. I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"You know Bella, Julie?" Lauren asked — in what I imagined was an insolent tone — from across the fire.

"We've sort of known each other since I was born," she laughed, smiling at me again.

"How nice." She didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all, and her pale, fishy eyes narrowed.

"Bella," she called again, watching my face carefully, "I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone think to invite them?" Her expression of concern was unconvincing.

"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, older boy asked before I could respond, much to Lauren's irritation. He was really closer to a man than a boy, and his voice was very deep.

"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfway toward him.

"The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject, ignoring her question.

Tyler, trying to win back her attention, asked Lauren's opinion on a CD he held. She was distracted.

I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away toward the dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come here, but his tone had implied something more — that they weren't allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on me, and I tried to ignore it without success.

Jules interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insane yet?"

"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement." I grimaced. She grinned understandingly.

I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn't have any better ideas. I hoped that young Jules was as yet inexperienced around girls or boys, so that she wouldn't see through my sure-to-be-pitiful attempts at flirting. Not that I was even sure she liked girls. I wasn't even sure if I liked girls. Until recently of course that's a whole other can of worms to open. But I wasn't so sure about her. 

"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" I asked, trying to imitate that way Edythe had of looking up from underneath her eyelashes. It couldn't have nearly the same effect, I was sure, but Jules jumped up willingly enough.

As we walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.

"So you're, what, sixteen?" I asked, trying not to look like an idiot as I fluttered my eyelids the way I'd seen girls do on TV.

"I just turned fifteen," she confessed, flattered.

"Really?" My face was full of false surprise. "I would have thought you were older."

"I'm tall for my age," she explained.

"Do you come up to Forks much?" I asked archly, as if I was hoping for a yes. I sounded idiotic to myself. I was afraid she would turn on me with disgust and accuse me of my fraud, but she still seemed flattered.

"Not too much," she admitted with a frown. "But when I get my car finished I can go up as much as I want — after I get my license," she amended.

"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to be hanging out with us." I purposefully lumped myself in with the youngsters, trying to make it clear that I preferred Jacob.

"That's Sam — he's nineteen," she informed me.

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I asked innocently.

"The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." She looked away, out toward James Island, as she confirmed what I'd thought I'd heard in Sam's voice.

"Why not?"

She glanced back at me, biting her lip. "Oops. I'm not supposed to say anything about that."

"Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious." I tried to make my smile alluring, wondering if I was laying it on too thick.

She smiled back, though, looking allured. Then she lifted one eyebrow and her voice was even huskier than before.

"Do you like scary stories?" she asked ominously.

"I love them," I enthused, making an effort to smolder at her.

Julie strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. She perched lightly on one of the twisted roots while I sat beneath her on the body of the tree. She stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of her tiny lips. I could see she was going to try to make this good. I focused on keeping the vital interest I felt out of my eyes.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — the Quileutes, I mean?" she began.

"Not really," I admitted.

"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood — supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark." She smiled, to show me how little stock she put in the histories. "Another legend claims that we descended from wolves — and that the wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them.

"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." Her voice dropped a little lower.

"The cold ones?" I asked, not faking my intrigue now.

"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land." She rolled her eyes.

"Your great-grandfather?" I encouraged.

"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

"Werewolves have enemies?"

"Only one."

I stared at her earnestly, hoping to disguise my impatience as admiration.

"So you see," Julie continued, "the cold ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did — they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces."

She winked at me.

"If they weren't dangerous, then why… ?" I tried to understand, struggling not to let her see how seriously I was considering his ghost story.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like this clan was.

You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." She deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into his tone.

"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey on animals instead."

I tried to keep my voice casual. "So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they like the cold ones your great grandfather met?"

"No." She paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."

She must have thought the expression on my face was fear inspired by ers story. She smiled, pleased, and continued.

"There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest are the same. In my great-grandfather's time they already knew of the leader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived." She was fighting a smile.

"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"

She smiled darkly.

"Blood drinkers," she replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them vampires."

I stared out at the rough surf after she answered, not sure what my face was exposing.

"You have goose bumps," she laughed delightedly.

"You're a good storyteller," I complimented her, still staring into the waves.

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone."

I couldn't control my expression enough to look at her yet. "Don't worry, I won't give you away."

"I guess I just violated the treaty," she laughed.

"I'll take it to the grave," I promised, and then I shivered.

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there."

"I won't, of course not."

"So do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" she asked in a playful tone, but with a hint of worry. I still hadn't looked away from the ocean.

I turned and smiled at her as normally as I could.

"No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goose bumps, see?" I held up my arm.

"Cool." She smiled.

And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other warned us that someone was approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward us.

"There you are, Bella," Mike called in relief, waving his arm over his head.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Julie asked, alerted by the jealous edge in Mike's voice. I was surprised it was so obvious.

"No, definitely not," I whispered. I was tremendously grateful to Julie, and eager to make her as happy as possible. I winked at her, carefully turning away from Mike to do so. She smiled, elated by my inept flirting.

"So when I get my license…" she began.

"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." I felt guilty as I said this, knowing that I'd used her. But I really did like Julie. She was someone I could easily be friends with.

Mike had reached us now, with Jessica still a few paces back. I could see his eyes appraising Julie, and looking satisfied at her obvious youth.

"Where have you been?" he asked, though the answer was right in front of him.

"Julie was just telling me some local stories," I volunteered. "It was really interesting."

I smiled at Julie warmly, and she grinned back.

"Well," Mike paused, carefully reassessing the situation as he watched our camaraderie. "We're packing up — it looks like it's going to rain soon."

We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.

"Okay." I jumped up. "I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you again," Julie said, and I could tell she was taunting Mike just a bit.

"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come, too," I promised.

Her grin stretched across her face. "That would be cool."

"And thanks," I added earnestly.

I pulled up my hood as we tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they landed. When we got to the Suburban the others were already loading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat by Angela and Tyler, announcing that I'd already had my turn in the shotgun position. Angela just stared out the window at the escalating storm, and Lauren twisted around in the middle seat to occupy Tyler's attention, so I could simply lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes and try very hard not to think.


	9. NIGHTMARE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams can mean a lot more than we give them credit for. It can be confusing when it can have meaning and when it's just random things that are on our minds. We never know what to think of them do we?

I told Charlie I had a lot of homework to do, and that I didn't want anything to eat. There was a basketball game on that he was excited about, though of course I had no idea what was special about it, so he wasn't aware of anything unusual in my face or tone.

Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found my old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked up a CD that Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shrieking for my tastes. I popped it into place and lay down on my bed. I put on the headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I closed my eyes, but the light still intruded, so I added a pillow over the top half of my face.

I concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understand the lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time I'd listened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I was surprised to find that I really did like the band after all, once I got past the blaring noise.

I'd have to thank Phil again.

And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think — which was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to the CD again and again, until I was singing along with all the songs, until, finally, I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Though part of my mind seemed to know that I was dreaming, most of me was just present in the green light of the forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby, and I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun. So I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jules was there, tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.

"Jules? What's wrong?" I asked. Her face was frightened as she yanked on my hand, trying to tow me back into the dark.

"Run, Bella, you have to run!" she whispered, terrified.

"This way, Bella!" It was Mike's voice I heard now, calling from the thick of the trees, but I couldn't see him.

"Why?" I asked, still pulling against Jule's grasp. Finding the sun was really important for the dream me. It was all I could focus on. 

And then Jules dropped my hand- she let out a strange yelp and, suddenly shaking, she fell twitiching to the ground. I watched in horror, unable to move.

"Jules!" I yelled, but she was gone. In her place was a big, red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the hair on the back of her shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from the between her exposed fangs.

"Bella, run!" Mike cried out again from behind me. But I didn't turn. I was watching the light, coming out from the trees. 

She wore a black dress. It hung all the way to the ground but exposed her arms to the shoulders and had a deep-cut V for a neckline. Her skin was faintly glowing, and her eyes were flat black. She held up on hand and beckoned me to come to her. Her nails were filed into sharp points and painted a red so dark they were almost as black as her dress. Her lips were the same color.

The wolf between us growled.

I took a step forward, toward Edythe. She smiled then, and between her dark lips her teeth were sharp, pointed, like her fingernails. 

"Trust me," she purred.

I took another step.

The wolf launched herself across the space between me and the vampire, fangs aiming for the jugular.

"No!" Dream me felt a strange vibration as I went after the wolf the pulled her off. As I slammed her to the ground. I was just as tall as her now for some reason. And I felt strange. All I know was I had never felt more angry before in my entire life and I went in for the kill. To protect what for some reason felt like was mine. As I stood protectively in front off Edythe I bared my teeth as I felt saliva flick everywhere and I made a weird howling noise as I jumped. Real me then found I was on the floor next to my bed.

I must have fell moving around in my dream. Which was very weird. My headphones were lying right next to me on the wooden floor. My arm was bruised badly, and I was pretty sure that I had hit my head on the bedside table. But the pain as strong as it was seemed to fade away quickly. As if I needed another "concussion". I could only imagine the humor from it being from sleeping this time. Not that I believed I had one in the first place the first time during my near death experience with the van.

I groaned, and got into my bed, and then rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots. I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to stay horizontal. I could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of my skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the rubber band out, quickly combing through the plaits with my fingers. I pulled the pillow back over my eyes.

It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly the images I'd been trying so desperately to avoid. I was going to have to face them now.

I sat up, and my head spun for a minute as the blood flowed downward. First things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long as possible. I grabbed my bathroom bag.

The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. Even taking the time to blow-dry my hair, I was soon out of things to do in the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my room. I couldn't tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. I went to look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again.

I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed — something I never did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my old computer. I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free service substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited.

I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. Only to then realize I was still hungry and went back for another bowl. And after finishing that bowl I ended up just bringing the box with me. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor and placing it precisely in the center of the table. I pulled out the headphones, and put them away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the same CD on, turning it down to the point where it was background noise as I continued to munch on my comfort food. Maybe the only thing keeping me sane right now. Not that that was healthy at all.

With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in pop-up ads. I sat in my hard folding chair and began closing all the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite search engine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word.

Vampire.

It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through —everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies.

Then I found a promising site — Vampires A—Z. I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally the screen was finished — simple white  
background with black text, academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the home page:

Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself  
neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both. — Rev. Montague Summers

If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the  
judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires? — Rousseau

The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood.

I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar, let alone plausible.

It seemed that most vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded like the movies I'd seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking blood.

Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici.

About this last there was only one brief sentence.

Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.

It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.

Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Julie's stories or my own observations. I'd made a little catalogue in my mind as I'd read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Julie's criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.

And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the small number of scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading — vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.

Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly.

Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room, researching vampires. What was wrong with me? I decided that most of the blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks — and the entire sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter.

I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn't involve a three-day drive.

I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the weather and stomped out the door.

It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across Charlie's yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays.

There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I wouldn't risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings.

The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all I knew was due to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser window in earlier days.

There were many I didn't know, and others I couldn't be sure about because they were so covered in green parasites.

I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself pushed me forward. As that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, held high in the leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. A recently fallen tree — I knew it was recent because it wasn't entirely carpeted in moss — rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the damp seat and my clothes wherever they touched, and leaned my hooded head back against the living tree.

This was the wrong place to have come. I should have known, but where else was there to go? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in last night's dream to allow for peace of mind.

Now that there was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so it must be raining above. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and not see me.

Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the absurdities that embarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my clear-cut bedroom.

I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer, but I did so unwillingly.

First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Julie had said about the Cullens could be true.

Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly and morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions. But what, then? I asked myself. There was no rational explanation for how I was alive at this moment. I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more — small things that registered slowly — how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way she sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. She had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. She hadn't said no to the beach trip till she heard where we were going. She seemed to know what everyone around her was thinking… except me. She had told me she was the villain, dangerous…

Could the Cullens be vampires?

Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational justification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes. Whether it be Julie's cold ones or my own superhero theory, Edythe Cullen was not… human. She was something more.

So then — maybe. That would have to be my answer for now.

And then the most important question of all. What was I going to do if it was true?

If Edythe was a vampire — I could hardly make myself think the words — then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn't even believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed.

Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take her advice: to be smart, to avoid her as much as possible. To cancel our plans, to go back to ignoring her as far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell her to leave me alone — and mean it this time.

I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair as I considered that alternative. My mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping on to the next option.

I could do nothing different. After all, if she was something… sinister, she'd done nothing to hurt me so far.

In fact, I would be a dent in Tyler's fender if she hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could she be? I retorted.

My head spun around in answerless circles. There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. The dark Edythe in my dream last night was a reflection only of my fear of the word Julie had spoken, and not Edythe herself. Even so, when I'd screamed out in terror at the werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear for the wolf that brought the cry of "no" to my lips. It was fear that she would be harmed — even as she called to me with sharp-edged fangs, I feared for her. And somehow something happened to me then- I wasn't me anymore. I began dangerous and protective of the vampire. Which that part made no sense so what good is a dream like this. I wasn't remotely dangerous at all. I wished I could be. But it didn't change the fact knew Edythe was.

And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn't know if there ever was a choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew — if I knew — I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of her, of her voice, her hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of her personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with her right now. Even if… but I couldn't think it. Not here, alone in the darkening forest. Not while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. I shivered and rose quickly from my place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain.

But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face, becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the confines of the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was free, Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising warmth and dry socks. It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the day, jeans and a t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. It didn't take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene than I'd felt since… well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest.

That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I simply followed through — usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like my decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives.

This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy.

And so the day was quiet, productive — I finished my paper before eight. Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. The chills that flashed up my spine whenever I thought of that trip were no different than the ones I'd felt before I'd taken my walk with Julie Black. They should be different, I thought. I should be afraid— I knew I should be, but I couldn't feel the right kind of fear.

I slept dreaamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my day so early, and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the second time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window — surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years — and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins.

Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately.

"Nice day out," he commented.

"Yes," I agreed with a grin.

He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been in those days had faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair — the same color, if not the same texture, as mine — had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny skin of his forehead.

But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had run away with Renée when she was just two years older than I was now.

I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window.

Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.

By dint of much elbow grease, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done — the product of a slow social life — but there were a few Trig problems I wasn't sure I had right. I took out my book industriously, but halfway through rechecking the first problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser.

"Bella!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike.

I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving.

"Hey, Mike," I called, waving back, unable to be halfhearted on a morning like this.

He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden in the light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me, I couldn't help but feel gratified.

"I never noticed before — your hair has red in it," he commented, catching between his fingers a strand that was fluttering in the light breeze.

"Only in the sun."

I became just a little uncomfortable as he tucked the lock behind my ear.

"Great day, isn't it?"

"My kind of day," I agreed.

"What did you do yesterday?" His tone was just a bit too proprietary.

"I mostly worked on my essay." I didn't add that I was finished with it — no need to sound smug.

He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oh yeah — that's due Thursday, right?"

"Um, Wednesday, I think."

"Wednesday?" He frowned. "That's not good… What are you writing yours on?"

"Whether Shakespeare's treatment of the female characters is misogynistic."

He stared at me like I'd just spoken in pig Latin.

"I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight," he said, deflated. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go out."

"Oh." I was taken off guard. Why couldn't I ever have a pleasant conversation with Mike anymore without it getting awkward?

"Well, we could go to dinner or something… and I could work on it later." He smiled at me hopefully.

"Mike…" I hated being put on the spot. "I don't think that would be the best idea."

His face fell. "Why?" he asked, his eyes guarded. My thoughts flickered to Edythe, wondering if that's where his thoughts were as well.

"I think… and if you ever repeat what I'm saying right now I will cheerfully beat you to death," I threatened, "but I think that would hurt Jessica's feelings."

He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. "Jessica?"

"Really, Mike, are you blind?"

"Oh," he exhaled — clearly dazed. I took advantage of that to make my escape.

"It's time for class, and I can't be late again." I gathered my books up and stuffed them in my bag.

We walked in silence to building three, and his expression was distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him in the right direction.

When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn't need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew what I could be doing tonight… But that was definitely the wrong path to let my mind wander down. Of course I was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, not even close.

So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Charlie first.

She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said. I was painfully eager to see not just him but all the Cullens — to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me — would Edythe be waiting to sit with me again?

As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find her alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled — Spanish had made us late — but there was no sign of Edythe or any of her family. Desolation hit me with crippling strength.

I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listen anymore.

We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the empty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response.

Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could while spiraling downward in misery. She, too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at anything to distract myself.

I realized I'd been holding on to a last shred of hope when I entered Biology, saw her empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment.

The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class.

I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope before I went out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in the door of Charlie's house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I tried to be happy that Mike had asked her out to dinner — I really was relieved that he finally seemed to be catching on — but my enthusiasm sounded false in my own ears. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night.

Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the night before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half hour on homework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked my e-mail, reading the backlog of letters from my mother, getting snippier as they progressed to the present. I sighed and typed a quick response.

Mom,

Sorry. I've been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had to write a paper.

My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I gave up on that.

It's sunny outside today - I know, I'm shocked, too - so I'm going to go outside and soak up  
as much vitamin D as I can. I love you,

Bella.

I decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading. I had a small collection of books that came with me to Forks, the shabbiest volume being a compilation of the works of Jane Austen. I selected that one and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down.

Outside in Charlie's small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the trees'  
shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, flipping through the different novels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mind the most thoroughly. My favorites were Pride and Prejudice and  
Sense and Sensibility. I'd read the first most recently, so I started into Sense and Sensibility, only to remember after I began three that the hero of the story happened to be named Edward. Which was just too close. Angrily, I turned to Mansfield Park, but the hero of that piece was named Edmund, and that was just too close too.

Weren't there any other names available in the late eighteenth century? I snapped the book shut, annoyed, and rolled over onto my back. I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go, and closed my eyes. I would think of nothing but the warmth on my skin, I told myself severely. The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair around my face, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my hair over my head, letting it fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the heat that touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my neck, soaked through my light shirt…

The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. Iooked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone.

"Charlie?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house.

I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in.

"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet — I fell asleep outside." I stifled a yawn.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway."

I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed.

He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, to make him happy.

"Dad," I said during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose… do you mind if I go with them?"

"Jessica Stanley?" he asked.

"And Angela Weber." I sighed as I gave him the details.

He was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"

"No, Dad, but I'm helping them find dresses — you know, giving them constructive criticism." I wouldn't have to explain this to a woman.

"Well, okay." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the girlie stuff. "It's a school night, though."

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?"

"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded me.

"I don't know how you survived," I muttered, then added more clearly, "I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top."

It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I grimly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck blouse — something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.

I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot looking for a space, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there.

I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell. It was the same as yesterday — I just couldn't keep little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table.

The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made all the more attractive by the fact that Lauren had other obligations. I was anxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see her appearing out of the blue the way she always did. I vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin Angela's or Jessica's enjoyment in the dress hunting.

Maybe I could do a little clothes shopping as well. I'd noticed that most of my clothes were starting to not fit right which was a self-conscious thought I had to myself. Not like I wasn't always hungry all the time. Last thing I need to think about right now in my mid-life crisis is about my weight. Life happens maybe I was thirty-five like my mom said. I refused to think that I might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier arrangement. Surely she wouldn't cancel without at least telling me.

After school, Jessica followed me home in her old white Mercury so that I could ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting out of Forks. I left a note for Charlie on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, switched my scruffy wallet from my school bag to a purse I rarely used, and ran out to join Jessica. We went to Angela's house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.


	10. PORT ANGELES

Jess drove faster than the Chief, so we made it to Port Angeles by four. It had been a while since I'd had a girls' night out, and the estrogen rush was invigorating. We listened to whiny rock songs while Jessica jabbered on about the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinner with Mike had gone very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday night they would have progressed to the first-kiss stage. I smiled to myself, pleased. Angela was passively happy to be going to the dance, but not really interested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who her type was, but I interrupted with a question about dresses after a bit, to spare her. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint than Forks. But Jessica and Angela knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste time on the picturesque boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove straight to the one big department store in town, which was a few streets in from the bay area's visitor-friendly face.

The dance was billed as semiformal, and we weren't exactly sure what that meant. Both Jessica and Angela seemed surprised and almost disbelieving when I told them I'd never been to a dance in Phoenix.

"Didn't you ever go with a boyfriend or something?" Jess asked dubiously as we walked through the front doors of the store.

"Really," I tried to convince her, not wanting to confess my dancing problems. "I've never had a boyfriend or anything close. I didn't go out much."

"Why not?" Jessica demanded.

"No one asked me," I answered honestly.

She looked skeptical. "People ask you out here," she reminded me, "and you tell them no." We were in the juniors' section now, scanning the racks for dress-up clothes.

"Well, except for Tyler," Angela amended quietly.

"Excuse me?" I gasped. "What did you say?"

"Tyler told everyone he's taking you to prom," Jessica informed me with suspicious eyes.

"He said what?" I sounded like I was choking.

"I told you it wasn't true," Angela murmured to Jessica.

I was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to irritation. But we had found the dress racks, and now we had work to do.

"That's why Lauren doesn't like you," Jessica giggled while we pawed through the clothes.

I ground my teeth. "Do you think that if I ran him over with my truck he would stop feeling guilty about the accident? That he might give up on making amends and call it even?"

"Maybe," Jess snickered. '"If that's why he's doing this."

The dress selection wasn't large, but both of them found a few things to try on. I sat on a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the three-way mirror, trying to control my fuming.

Jess was torn between two — one a long, strapless, basic black number, the other a knee-length electric blue with spaghetti straps. I encouraged her to go with the blue; why not play up the eyes?

Angela chose a pale pink dress that draped around her tall frame nicely and brought out honey tints in her light brown hair. I complimented them both generously and helped by returning the rejects to their racks. The whole process was much shorter and easier than similar trips I'd taken with Renée at home. I guess there was something to be said for limited choices.

We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things on I merely watched and critiqued, not in the mood to shop for myself, though I did need new shoes. The girls'-night high was wearing off in the wake of my annoyance at Tyler, leaving room for the gloom to move back in.

"Angela?" I began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair of pink strappy heels — she was overjoyed to have a date tall enough that she could wear high heels at all.

Jessica had drifted to the jewelry counter and we were alone.

"Yes?" She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view of the shoe.

I chickened out. "I like those."

"I think I'll get them — though they'll never match anything but the one dress," she mused.

"Oh, go ahead — they're on sale," I encouraged. She smiled, putting the lid back on a box that contained more practical-looking off-white shoes.

I tried again. "Um, Angela…" She looked up curiously.

"Is it normal for the… Cullens" — I kept my eyes on the shoes — "to be out of school a lot?" I failed miserably in my attempt to sound nonchalant.

"Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time — even the doctor. They're all real outdoorsy," she told me quietly, examining her shoes, too. She didn't ask one question, let alone the hundreds that Jessica would have unleashed. I was beginning to really like Angela.

"Oh." I let the subject drop as Jessica returned to show us the rhinestone jewelry she'd found to match her silver shoes.

We planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the boardwalk, but the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected. Jess and Angela were going to take their clothes back to the car and then walk down to the bay. I told them I would meet them at the restaurant in an hour — I wanted to look for a bookstore. They were both willing to come with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun — they didn't know how preoccupied I could get when surrounded by books; it was something I preferred to do alone. They walked off to the car chattering happily, and I headed in the direction Jess pointed out.

I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn't what I was looking for. The windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and books about spiritual healing. I didn't even go inside. Through the glass I could see a fifty-year-old woman with long, gray hair worn straight down her back, clad in a dress right out of the sixties, smiling welcomingly from behind the counter. I decided that was one conversation I could skip. There had to be a normal bookstore in town.

I meandered through the streets, which were filling up with end-of-the-workday traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should to where I was going; I was wrestling with despair. I was trying so hard not to think about him, and what Angela had said… and more than anything trying to beat down my hopes for Saturday, fearing a disappointment more painful than the rest, when I looked up to see someone's silver Volvo parked along the street and it all came crashing down on me. Stupid, unreliable vampire, I thought to myself.

I stomped along in a southerly direction, toward some glass-fronted shops that looked promising. But when I got to them, they were just a repair shop and a vacant space. I still had too much time to go looking for Jess and Angela yet, and I definitely needed to get my mood in hand before I met back up with them. I ran my fingers through my hair a couple of times and took some deep breaths before I continued around the corner.

I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I was going the wrong direction. The little foot traffic I had seen was going north, and it looked like the buildings here were mostly warehouses. I decided to turn east at the next corner, and then loop around after a few blocks and try my luck on a different street on my way back to the boardwalk.

A group of four men turned around the corner I was heading for, dressed too casually to be heading home from the office, but they were too grimy to be tourists. As they approached me, I realized they weren't too many years older than I was. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. I scooted as far to the inside of the sidewalk as I could to give them room, walking swiftly, looking past them to the corner.

"Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed, and he had to be talking to me since no one else was around. I glanced up automatically. Two of them had paused, the other two were slowing. The closest, a heavyset, dark-haired man in his early twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt, cut-off jeans, and sandals. He took half a step toward me.

"Hello," I mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. Then I quickly looked away and walked faster toward the corner. I could hear them laughing at full volume behind me.

"Hey, wait!" one of them called after me again, but I kept my head down and rounded the corner with a sigh of relief. I could still hear them chortling behind me.

I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several somber-colored warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered far past the part of Port Angeles that I, as a guest, was intended to see. It was getting dark, I realized, the clouds finally returning, piling up on the western horizon, creating an early sunset.

The eastern sky was still clear, but graying, shot through with streaks of pink and orange. I'd left my jacket in the car, and a sudden shiver made me cross my arms tightly across my chest. A single van passed me, and then the road was empty.

The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as I looked over my shoulder to glare at the offending cloud, I realized with a shock that two men were walking quietly twenty feet behind me.

They were from the same group I'd passed at the corner, though neither was the dark one who'd spoken to me. I turned my head forward at once, quickening my pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made me shiver again. My purse was on a shoulder strap and I had it slung across my body, the way you were supposed to wear it so it wouldn't get snatched. I knew exactly where my pepper spray was — still in my duffle bag under the bed, never unpacked. I didn't have much money with me, just a twenty and some ones, and I thought about "accidentally" dropping my bag and walking away.

But a small, frightened voice in the back of my mind warned me that they might be something worse than thieves.

I listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which were much too quiet when compared to the boisterous noise they'd been making earlier, and it didn't sound like they were speeding up, or getting any closer to me. Breathe, I had to remind myself. You don't know they're following you. I continued to walk as quickly as I could without actually running, focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards away from me now. I could hear them, staying as far back as they'd been before. A blue car turned onto the street from the south and drove quickly past me. I thought of jumping out in front of it, but I hesitated, inhibited, unsure that I was really being pursued, and then it was too late.

I reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was only a blind drive to the back of another building. I was half-turned in anticipation; I had to hurriedly correct and dash across the narrow drive, back to the sidewalk. The street ended at the next corner, where there was a stop sign. I concentrated on the faint footsteps behind me, deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back, though, and I knew they could outrun me in any case. I was sure to trip and go sprawling if I tried to go any faster.

The footfalls were definitely farther back. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder, and they were maybe forty feet back now, I saw with relief. But they were both staring at me.

It seemed to take forever for me to get to the corner. I kept my pace steady, the men behind me falling ever so slightly farther behind with every step. Maybe they realized they had scared me and were sorry. I saw two cars going north pass the intersection I was heading for, and I exhaled in relief.

There would be more people around once I got off this deserted street. I skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.

And skidded to a stop.

The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls. I could see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars, and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away.

Because lounging against the western building, midway down the street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as I froze dead on the sidewalk. I realized then that I wasn't being followed.

I was being herded.

I paused for only a second, but it felt like a very long time. I turned then and darted to the other side of the road. I had a sinking feeling that it was a wasted attempt. The footsteps behind me were louder now.

"There you are!" The booming voice of the stocky, dark-haired man shattered the intense quiet and made me jump. In the gathering darkness, it seemed like he was looking past me.

"Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind me, making me jump again as I tried to hurry down the street.

"We just took a little detour."

My steps had to slow now. I was closing the distance between myself and the lounging pair too quickly. I had a good loud scream, and I sucked in air, preparing to use it, but my throat was so dry I wasn't sure how much volume I could manage. With a quick movement I slipped my purse over my head, gripping the strap with one hand, ready to surrender it or use it as weapon as need demanded.

The thickset man shrugged away from the wall as I warily came to a stop, and walked slowly into the street.

"Stay away from me," I warned in a voice that was supposed to sound strong and fearless. But I was right about the dry throat — no volume.

"Don't be like that, sugar," he called, and the raucous laughter started again behind me.

I braced myself, feet apart, trying to remember through my panic what little self-defense I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully breaking the nose or shoving it into the brain. Finger through the eye socket — try to hook around and pop the eye out. And the standard knee to the groin, of course.

That same pessimistic voice in my mind spoke up then, reminding me that I probably wouldn't have a chance against one of them, and there were four. Shut up! I commanded the voice before terror could incapacitate me. I wasn't going out without taking someone with me. I tried to swallow so I could build up a decent scream.

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting the stocky one, forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. I dove into the road — this car was going to stop, or have to hit me. But the silver car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door open just a few feet from me.

"Get in," a furious voice commanded.

It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over me — even before I was off the street — as soon as I heard her voice. I jumped into the seat, slamming the door shut behind me.

It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of the door, and I could barely see her face in the glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as she spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them diving for the sidewalk as we straightened out and sped toward the harbor. "Put on your seat belt," she commanded, and I realized I was clutching the seat with both hands. I quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness. She took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without a pause.

But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about where we were going. I stared at his face in profound relief, relief that went beyond my sudden deliverance. I studied her flawless features in the limited light, waiting for my breath to return to normal, until it occurred to me that her expression was murderously angry.

"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded.

"No," she said curtly, and his tone was livid.

I sat in silence, watching his face while her blazing eyes stared straight ahead, until the car came to a sudden stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything beside the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.

"Bella?" she asked, his voice tight, controlled.

"Yes?" My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly.

"Are you all right?" She still didn't look at me, but the fury was plain on her face.

"Yes," I croaked softly.

"Distract me, please," she ordered.

"I'm sorry, what?"

She exhaled sharply.

"Just prattle about something unimportant until I calm down," she clarified, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Um." I wracked my brain for something trivial. "I'm going to run over Tyler Crowley tomorrow before school?"

She was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Why?"

"He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom — either he's insane or he's still trying to make up for almost killing me last… well, you remember it, and he thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we're even, and he can't keep trying to make amends. I don't need enemies and maybe Lauren would back off if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though. If he doesn't have a ride he can't take anyone to prom…" I babbled on.

"I heard about that." She sounded a bit more composed.

"You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring. "If he's paralyzed from the neck down, he can't go to the prom, either," I muttered, refining my plan.

Edythe sighed, and finally opened his eyes.

"Better?"

"Not really."

I waited, but she didn't speak again. She leaned her head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. Her face was rigid.

"What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella." She was whispering, too, and as she stared out the window, her eyes narrowed into slits. "But it wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…" She didn't finish her sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to control her anger again.

"At least," she continued, "that's what I'm trying to convince myself."

"Oh." The word seemed inadequate, but I couldn't think of a better response.

We sat in silence again. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was past six-thirty.

"Jessica and Angela will be worried," I murmured. "I was supposed to meet them."

She started the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and speeding back toward town.

We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. She parallel-parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but she slid in effortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of La Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us.

"How did you know where… ?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door open and turned to see her getting out.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm taking you to dinner." She smiled slightly, but her eyes were hard. She stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. She was waiting for me on the sidewalk.

She spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again."

I shivered at the threat in her voice.

"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to.

They hesitated a few feet from us.

"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.

"I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edythe." I gestured toward her.

"Would it be all right if I joined you?" she asked in his silken, irresistible voice. I could see from their staggered expressions that she had never unleashed her talents on them before.

"Er… sure," Jessica breathed.

"Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we were waiting — sorry," Angela confessed.

"That's fine — I'm not hungry." I shrugged.

"I think you should eat something." Edythe's voice was low, but full of authority. She looked up at Jessica and spoke slightly louder. "Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats."

"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my expression whether that was what I wanted. I winked at her. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with my perpetual savior.

There were so many questions that I couldn't bombard him with till we were by ourselves.

"Okay." Angela was quicker than Jessica. "See you tomorrow, Bella… Edythe." She grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car, which I could see a little ways away, parked across First Street.

As they got in, Jess turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity. I waved back, waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face her.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize her face. Her expression was unreadable.

"Humor me."

She walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I walked past hers into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.

The restaurant wasn't crowded — it was the off-season in Port Angeles. The host was female, and I understood the look in her eyes as she assessed Edythe. She welcomed her a little more warmly than necessary. I was surprised by how much that bothered me. She was several inches taller than I was, and unnaturally blond.

"A table for two?" Her voice was alluring, whether she was aiming for that or not. I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied by my obvious ordinariness, and by the cautious, no-contact space Edythe kept between us. She led us to a table big enough for four in the center of the most crowded area of the dining floor.

I was about to sit, but Edythe shook her head at me.

"Perhaps something more private?" she insisted quietly to the host. I wasn't sure, but it looked like she smoothly handed her a tip. I'd never seen anyone refuse a table except in old movies.

"Sure." She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led us around a partition to a small ring of booths — all of them empty. "How's this?"

"Perfect." She flashed her dimpled smile, dazing her momentarily.

"Um" — she shook her head, blinking — "your server will be right out." She walked away unsteadily.

"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly fair."

"Do what?"

"Dazzle them like that — she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."

She seemed confused.

"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on people."

She tilted her head to one side, and her eyes were curious. "I dazzle people?"

"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"

She ignored my questions. "Do I dazzle you?"

"Frequently," I admitted.

And then our server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had definitely dished behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look disappointed. She flipped a strand of short black hair behind one ear and smiled with unnecessary warmth.

"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?" I didn't miss that she was speaking only to her.

She looked at me.

"I'll have a Coke." It sounded like a question.

"Two Cokes," she said.

"I'll be right back with that," she assured her with another unnecessary smile. But she didn't see it. She was watching me.

"What?" I asked when she left.

Her eyes stayed fixed on my face. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by her intensity.

"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?"

"Should I?"

She chuckled at my puzzled tone.

"Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." Her face twisted up into that perfect dimpled smile.

"I don't think that will happen," I said after I could breathe again. "I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things."

"Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you." Right on cue, the waitress appeared with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. She stood with her back to me as she placed them on the table.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked Edythe.

"Bella?" she asked. She turned unwillingly toward me.

I picked the first thing I saw on the menu. "Um… I'll have the mushroom ravioli."

"And you?" She turned back to her with a smile.

"Nothing for me," she said. Of course not.

"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile was still in place, but she wasn't looking at her, and she left dissatisfied.

"Drink," she ordered.

I sipped at my soda obediently, and then drank more deeply, surprised by how thirsty I was. I realized I had finished the whole thing when she pushed her glass toward me.

"No, "I'm fine," Itold her.

"I'm not going to drink it," she said, and her tone added the duh.

"Thanks," I muttered, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda was radiating through my chest, and I shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"It's just the Coke," I explained, shivering again.

"Don't you have a jacket?" Her voice was disapproving.

"Yes." I looked at the empty bench next to me. "Oh — I left it in Jessica's car," I realized.

Edythe started unwinding a bone-colored scarf from around her neck. I realized that I'd never really noticed what she was wearing- not just tonight, but ever. The only thing I could remember was the black gown from my nightmare... But though I hadn't processed the particulars, I knew that in reality she always wore light colors. Like tonight- under the scarf she had on a pale leather jacket, cut short like motercycle gear, and a thin white turtleneck sweater. I was pretty sure she usually kept her skin covered, which made me think of the deep V of the black dream gown again, and that was a mistake. My face blushed embarassinigly red. 

"Here," she said, tossing the scarf to me.

I pushed it back. " Really it's fine."

She cocked her head to the side. "The hairs on your arm's are standing up, Bella," she stated. 

"I don't need it," I insisted.

"Fine, Emmett has a jacket in the trunk, I'll be right-"

She started to move, and I reached out trying to catch her hand, to keep her there. She evaded my grasp, folding her hands under the table, but didn't get up.

"Don't go," I said softly. I knew my voice sounded too intense- she was just going out to her car, not disappearing forever- but I couldn't make it sound normal. "I'll wear the scarf. See?"

I grabbed the scarf from the table- it was very soft, and not at all warm, the way it should be after coming off someone's body- and started to wrap it around my neck. I'd never worn a scarf that I could remember, so I just wound it in a circle until I ran out of fabric.

This one smelled amazing, and familiar. I realized this was a hint of the fragrance from the car. It must be her.

"Did I do it right?" I asked her. The soft knit was already warming to my skin, and it did help.

"It suits you," she said, but then she laughed, so I guessed that meant the answer was no.

"Do you steal a lot of things from, um Emmett?"

She shrugged. "He's my best friend I guess... more than just a brother. So sometimes I guess. I know he wouldn't have cared if let you wear his jacket."

"You never told me about your family. We ran out of time the other day." Was it only last Thursday? It seemed like a lot longer.

She pushed the bread basket toward me.

"Really, I'm not going into shock," I protested.

"You should be — a normal person would be. You don't even look shaken." She seemed unsettled. She stared into my eyes, and I saw how light her eyes were, lighter than I'd ever seen them, golden butterscotch.

"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth again.

That displeased her; her brow furrowed. She shook her head, frowning.

"This is more complicated than I'd planned," she murmured to himself.

I picked up a breadstick and began nibbling on the end, measuring her expression. I wondered when it would be okay to start questioning her.

"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," I commented, trying to distract her from whatever thought had left her frowning and somber.

She stared at me, stunned. "What?"

"You're always crabbier when your eyes are black — I expect it then," I went on. "I have a theory about that."

Her eyes narrowed. "More theories?"

"Mm-hm." I chewed on a small bite of the bread, trying to look indifferent.

"I hope you were more creative this time… or are you still stealing from comic books?" Her faint smile was mocking; her long eyes were still tight.

"Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up with it on my own, either," I confessed.

"And?" she prompted.

But then the waitress strode around the partition with my food. I realized we'd been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the table, because we both straightened up as she approached. She set the dish in front of me — it looked pretty good — and turned quickly to Edythe.

"Did you change your mind?" she asked. "Isn't there anything I can get you?" I may have been imagining the double meaning in her words.

"No, thank you, but some more soda would be nice." She gestured with a long white hand to the empty cups in front of me.

"Sure." She removed the empty glasses and walked away.

"You were saying?" she asked.

"I'll tell you about it in the car. If…" I paused.

"There are conditions?" She raised one eyebrow, her voice ominous.

"I do have a few questions, of course."

"Of course."

The waitress was back with two more Cokes. She sat them down without a word this time, and left again.

I took a sip.

"Well, go ahead," she pushed, her voice still hard.

I started with the most undemanding. Or so I thought. "Why are you in Port Angeles?"

She looked down, folding her small hands together slowly on the table. Her eyes flickered up at me from under her lashes, the hint of a smirk on her face.

"Next."

"But that's the easiest one," I objected.

"Next," she repeated.

I looked down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, picked up my fork, and carefully speared a ravioli.

I put it in my mouth slowly, still looking down, chewing while I thought. The mushrooms were good. I swallowed and took another sip of Coke before I looked up.

"Okay, then." I glared at her, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, that… someone… could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know — with a few exceptions."

"Just one exception," she corrected, "hypothetically."

"All right, with one exception, then." I was thrilled that she was playing along, but I tried to seem casual.

"How does that work? What are the limitations? How would… that someone… find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he know she was in trouble?" I wondered if my convoluted questions even made sense.

"Hypothetically?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Well, if… that someone…"

"Let's call her 'Betty'," I suggested.

She smiled wryly. "'Betty', then. If 'Betty' had been paying attention, the timing wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, you know."

"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," I reminded her frostily.

She laughed at me, her eyes warm.

"Yes, we were," she agreed. "Shall we call you 'Jane'?"

"How did you know?" I asked, unable to curb my intensity. I realized I was leaning toward her again.

She seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. Her eyes locked with mine, and I guessed she was making the decision right then whether or not to simply tell me the truth.

"You can trust me, you know," I murmured. I reached forward, without thinking, to touch her folded hands, but she slid them away minutely, and I pulled my hand back.

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." Her voice was almost a whisper. "I was wrong — you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."

"I thought you were always right."

"I used to be." She shook her head again. "I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents — that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."

"And you put yourself into that category?" I guessed.

Her face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."

I stretched my hand across the table again — ignoring her when she pulled back slightly once more — to touch the back of her hand shyly with my fingertips. Her skin was cold and hard, like a stone.

"Thank you." My voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."

Her face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"

I scowled, but nodded. She moved her hand out from under mine, placing both of hers under the table.

But she leaned toward me.

"I followed you to Port Angeles," she admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes." She paused. I wondered if it should bother me that she was following me; instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure. She stared, maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an involuntary smile.

"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" I speculated, distracting myself.

"That wasn't the first time," she said, and her voice was hard to hear. I stared at her in amazement, but she was looking down. "Your number was up the first time I met you." I felt a spasm of fear at her words, and the abrupt memory of her violent black glare that first day… but the overwhelming sense of safety I felt in her presence stifled it. By the time she looked up to read my eyes, there was no trace of fear in them.

"You remember?" she asked, his angel's face grave.

"Yes." I was calm.

"And yet here you sit." There was a trace of disbelief in her voice; she raised one eyebrow.

"Yes, here I sit… because of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knew how to find me today… ?" I prompted.

She pressed her lips together, staring at me through narrowed eyes, deciding again. Her eyes flashed down to my full plate, and then back to me.

"You eat, I'll talk," she bargained.

I quickly scooped up another ravioli and popped it in my mouth.

"It's harder than it should be — keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." She looked at me anxiously, and I realized I had frozen. I made myself swallow, then stabbed another ravioli and tossed it in.

"I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully — like I said, only you could find trouble in Port Angeles — and at first I didn't notice when you took off on your own. Then, when I realized that you weren't with her anymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in her head. I could tell that you hadn't gone in, and that you'd gone south… and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street — to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason to be worried… but I was strangely anxious…"

She was lost in thought, staring past me, seeing things I couldn't imagine.

"I started to drive in circles, still… listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then —" She stopped, clenching her teeth together in sudden fury. She made an effort to calm herself.

"Then what?" I whispered. She continued to stare over my head.

"I heard what they were thinking," she growled, her upper lip curling slightly back over her teeth. "I saw your face in his mind." She suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, her hand covering her eyes. The movement was so swift it startled me.

"It was very… hard — you can't imagine how hard — for me to simply take you away, and leave them… alive." Her voice was muffled by her arm. "I could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," she admitted in a whisper.

I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands were folded in my lap, and I was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. She still had her face in her hand, and she was as still as if she'd been carved from the stone her skin resembled.

Finally she looked up, her eyes seeking mine, full of her own questions.

"Are you ready to go home?" she asked.

"I'm ready to leave," I qualified, overly grateful that we had the hour-long ride home together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to her.

The waitress appeared as if she'd been called. Or watching.

"How are we doing?" she asked Edythe.

"We're ready for the check, thank you." Her voice was quiet, rougher, still reflecting the strain of our conversation. It seemed to muddle her. She looked up, waiting.

"S-sure," she stuttered. "Here you go." She pulled a small leather folder from the front pocket of her black apron and handed it to her.

There was a bill in her hand already. She slipped it into the folder and handed it right back to her.

"No change." She smiled. Then she stood up, and I scrambled awkwardly to my feet.

She smiled invitingly at her again. "You have a nice evening."

She didn't look away from me as she thanked her. I suppressed a smile.

She walked close beside me to the door, still careful not to touch me. I remembered what Jessica had said about her relationship with Mike, how they were almost to the first-kiss stage. I sighed. Edythe seemed to hear me, and she looked down curiously. I looked at the sidewalk, grateful that she didn't seem to be able to know what I was thinking.

She opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in, shutting it softly behind me. I watched her walk around the front of the car, amazed, yet again, by how graceful she was. I probably should have been used to that by now — but I wasn't. I had a feeling Edythe wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to.

Once inside the car, she started the engine and turned the heater on high. It had gotten very cold, and I guessed the good weather was at an end. I was warm in her scarf, though, breathing in the scent of it when I thought she couldn't see.

Edythe pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway.

"Now," she said significantly, "it's your turn."


	11. THEORY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One secret to reveal. What more to find out? We shall see.

"Can I ask just one more?" I pleaded as Edythe accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street.

She didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road. She sighed.

"One," she agreed. Her lips pressed together into a cautious line.

"Well… you said you knew I hadn't gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just wondering how you knew that."

She looked away, deliberating.

"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," I grumbled.

She almost smiled.

"Fine, then. I followed your scent." She looked at the road, giving me time to compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable response to that, but I filed it carefully away for future study. I tried to refocus.

I wasn't ready to let her be finished, now that she was finally explaining things.

"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions…" I stalled.

She looked at me with disapproval. "Which one?"

"How does it work — the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family… ?" I felt silly, asking for clarification on make-believe.

"That's more than one," she pointed out. I simply intertwined my fingers and gazed at her, waiting.

"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's… 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles."She paused thoughtfully. "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum — a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear.

"Most of the time I tune it all out — it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal" — she frowned as she said the word — "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."

"Why do you think you can't hear me?" I asked curiously.

She looked at me, her eyes enigmatic.

"I don't know," she murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." She grinned at me, suddenly amused.

"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered me more than they should — probably because his speculation hit home. I'd always suspected as much, and it embarrassed me to have it confirmed.

"I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're the freak," she laughed. "Don't worry, it's just a theory…" Her face tightened. "Which brings us back to you."

I sighed. How to begin?

"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" she reminded me softly.

I looked away from her face for the first time, trying to find words. I happened to notice the speedometer.

"Holy crow!" I shouted. "Slow down!"

"What's wrong?" She was startled. But the car didn't decelerate.

"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" I was still shouting. I shot a panicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road was only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall — as hard as a wall of steel if we veered off the road at this speed.

"Relax, Bella." She rolled her eyes, still not slowing.

"Are you trying to kill us?" I demanded.

"We're not going to crash."

I tried to modulate my voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I always drive like this." She turned to smile at me her dimples coming out.

"Keep your eyes on the road!"

"I've never been in an accident, Bella — I've never even gotten a ticket." She grinned and tapped her forehead. "Built-in radar detector."

"Very funny." I fumed. "Charlie's a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."

"Probably," she agreed with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't." She sighed, and I watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty. "Happy?"

"Almost."

"I hate driving slow," she muttered.

"This is slow?"

"Enough commentary on my driving," she snapped. "I'm still waiting for your latest theory."

I bit my lip. She looked down at me, her honey eyes unexpectedly gentle.

"I won't laugh," she promised.

"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me."

"Is it that bad?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

She waited. I was looking down at my hands, so I couldn't see her expression.

"Go ahead." Her voice was calm.

"I don't know how to start," I admitted.

"Why don't you start at the beginning… you said you didn't come up with this on your own."

"No."

"What got you started — a book? A movie?" she probed.

"No — it was Saturday, at the beach." I risked a glance up at her face. She looked puzzled.

"I ran into an old family friend —Julie Black," I continued. "Her dad and Charlie have been friends since I was a baby."

She still looked confused.

"Hier dad is one of the Quileute elders." I watched her carefully. Her confused expression froze in place.

"We went for a walk —" I edited all my scheming out of the story "— and she was telling me some old legends — trying to scare me, I think. She told me one…" I hesitated.

"Go on," she said.

"About vampires." I realized I was whispering. I couldn't look at her face now. But I saw her knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.

"And you immediately thought of me?" Still calm.

"No. She… mentioned your family."

She was silent, staring at the road.

I was worried suddenly, worried about protecting Julie.

"She just thought it was a silly superstition," I said quickly. "She didn't expect me to think anything of it."

It didn't seem like enough; I had to confess. "It was my fault, I forced her to tell me."

"Why?"

"Lauren said something about you — she was trying to provoke me. And an older boy from the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So I got Julie alone and I tricked it out of her," I admitted, hanging my head.

She startled me by laughing. I glared up at her. SHe was laughing, but her eyes were fierce, staring ahead.

"Tricked her how?" she asked.

"I tried to flirt — it worked better than I thought it would." Disbelief colored my tone as I remembered.

"I'd like to have seen that." She chuckled darkly. "And you accused me of dazzling people — poor Julie Black."

I blushed and looked out my window into the night.

"What did you do then?" she asked after a minute.

"I did some research on the Internet."

"And did that convince you?" Her voice sounded barely interested. But her hands were clamped hard onto the steering wheel.

"No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…" I stopped.

"What?"

"I decided it didn't matter," I whispered.

"It didn't matter?" Her tone made me look up — I had finally broken through her carefully composed mask. Her face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger I'd feared.

"No," I said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

A hard, mocking edge entered her voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human!"

"No."

She was silent, staring straight ahead again. Her face was bleak and cold.

"You're angry," I sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," she said, but her tone was as hard as her face. "I'd rather know what you're thinking — even if what you're thinking is insane."

"So I'm wrong again?" I challenged.

"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter'!" she quoted, gritting her teeth together.

"I'm right?" I gasped.

"Does it matter?"

I took a deep breath.

"Not really." I paused. "But I am curious." My voice, at least, was composed.

She was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," she answered promptly.

"And how long have you been seventeen?"

Her lips twitched as she stared at the road. "A while," she admitted at last.

"Okay." I smiled, pleased that she was still being honest with me. Sh stared down at me with watchful eyes, much as she had before, when she was worried I would go into shock. I smiled wider in  
encouragement, and she frowned.

"Don't laugh — but how can you come out during the daytime?"

She laughed anyway. "Myth."

"Burned by the sun?"

"Myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth." She hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered her voice. "I can't sleep."

It took me a minute to absorb that. "At all?"

"Never," she said, her voice nearly inaudible. She turned to look at me with a wistful expression. The golden eyes held mine, and I lost my train of thought. I stared at her until she looked away.

"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." Her voice was hard now, and when she looked at me again her eyes were cold.

I blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"

"You aren't concerned about my diet?" she asked sarcastically.

"Oh," I murmured, "that."

"Yes, that." Her voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"

I flinched. "Well, Julie said something about that."

"What did Julie say?" she asked flatly.

"She said you didn't… hunt people. She said your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals."

"She said we weren't dangerous?" Her voice was deeply skeptical.

"Not exactly. She said you weren't supposed to be dangerous. But the Quileutes still didn't want you on their land, just in case."

She looked forward, but I couldn't tell if she was watching the road or not.

"So was she right? About not hunting people?" I tried to keep my voice as even as possible.

"The Quileutes have a long memory," she whispered.

I took it as a confirmation.

"Don't let that make you complacent, though," she warned me. "They're right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."

"I don't understand."

"We try," she explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."

"This is a mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn't know if she could as well.

"A very dangerous one," she murmured.

We were both silent then. I watched the headlights twist with the curves of the road. They moved too fast; it didn't look real, it looked like a video game. I was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, like the black road beneath us, and I was hideously afraid that I would never have another chance to be with her like this again — openly, the walls between us gone for once. Her words hinted at an end, and I recoiled from the idea. I couldn't waste one minute I had with her.

"Tell me more," I asked desperately, not caring what she said, just so I could hear her voice again.

She looked at me quickly, startled by the change in my tone. "What more do you want to know?"

"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I suggested, my voice still tinged with desperation. I realized my eyes were wet, and I fought against the grief that was trying to overpower me.

"I don't want to be a monster." Her voice was very low.

"But animals aren't enough?"

She paused. "I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn't completely satiate the hunger — or rather thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time." Her tone turned ominous. "Sometimes it's more difficult than others."

"Is it very difficult for you now?" I asked.

She sighed. "Yes."

"But you're not hungry now," I said confidently — stating, not asking.

"Why do you think that?"

"Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that people — are crabbier when they're hungry."

She chuckled. "You are observant, aren't you?"

I didn't answer; I just listened to the sound of her laugh, committing it to memory.

"Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?" I asked when it was quiet again.

"Yes." She paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to say something. "I didn't want to leave, but it was necessary. It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."

"Why didn't you want to leave?"

"It makes me… anxious… to be away from you." Her eyes were gentle but intense, and they seemed to be making my bones turn soft. "I wasn't joking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over last Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I'm surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed." She shook her head, and then seemed to remember something. "Well, not totally unscathed."

"What?"

"Your hands," she reminded me. I looked down at my palms, at the almost-healed scrapes across the heels of my hands. Her eyes missed nothing.

"I fell," I sighed.

"That's what I thought." Her lips curved up at the corners. "I suppose, being you, it could have been much worse — and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett's nerves." She smiled ruefully at me.

"Three days? Didn't you just get back today?"

"No, we got back Sunday."

"Then why weren't any of you in school?" I was frustrated, almost angry as I thought of how much disappointment I had suffered because of her absence.

"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the sunlight — at least, not where anyone can see."

"Why?"

"I'll show you sometime," she promised.

I thought about it for a moment.

"You might have called me," I decided.

She was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."

"But I didn't know where you were. I —" I hesitated, dropping my eyes.

"What?" Her velvety voice was compelling.

"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too." I blushed to be saying this out loud.

She was quiet. I glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that her expression was pained.

"Ah," she groaned quietly. "This is wrong."

I couldn't understand her response. "What did I say?"

"Don't you see, Bella? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved." She turned her anguished eyes to the road, her words flowing almost too fast for me to understand. "I don't want to hear that you feel that way." Her voice was low but urgent. Her words cut me. "It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Bella — please, grasp that."

"No." I tried very hard not to look like a sulky child.

"I'm serious," she growled.

"So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter what you are. It's too late."

Her voice whipped out, low and harsh. "Never say that."

I bit my lip and was glad she couldn't know how much that hurt. I stared out at the road. We must be close now. She was driving much too fast.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, her voice still raw. I just shook my head, not sure if I could speak.

I could feel her gaze on my face, but I kept my eyes forward.

"Are you crying?" She sounded appalled. I hadn't realized the moisture in my eyes had brimmed over. I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me.

"No," I said, but my voice cracked.

I saw her reach toward me hesitantly with her right hand, but then she stopped and placed it slowly back on the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry." Her voice burned with regret. I knew she wasn't just apologizing for the words that had upset me.

The darkness slipped by us in silence.

"Tell me something," she asked after another minute, and I could hear her struggle to use a lighter tone.

"Yes?"

"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't understand your expression — you didn't look that scared, you looked like you were concentrating very hard on  
something."

"I was trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker — you know, self-defense. I was going to smash his nose into his brain." I thought of the dark-haired man with a surge of hate.

"You were going to fight them?" This upset her. "Didn't you think about running?"

"I fall down a lot when I run," I admitted.

"What about screaming for help?"

"I was getting to that part."

She shook her head. "You were right — I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive."

I sighed. We were slowing, passing into the boundaries of Forks. It had taken less than twenty minutes.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" I demanded.

"Yes — I have a paper due, too." She smiled. "I'll save you a seat at lunch."

It was silly, after everything we'd been through tonight, how that little promise sent flutters through my stomach, and made me unable to speak.

We were in front of Charlie's house. The lights were on, my truck in its place, everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream. She stopped the car, but I didn't move.

"Do you promise to be there tomorrow?"

"I promise."

I considered that for a moment, then nodded. I pulled her scarf off, taking one last whiff.

"You can keep it — you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," she reminded me.

I handed it back to her. "I don't want to have to explain to Charlie."

"Oh, right." She grinned.

I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, trying to prolong the moment.

"Bella?" she asked in a different tone — serious, but hesitant.

"Yes?" I turned back to her too eagerly.

"Will you promise me something?"

"Yes," I said, and instantly regretted my unconditional agreement. What if she asked me to stay away from her? I couldn't keep that promise.

"Don't go into the woods alone."

I stared at her in blank confusion. "Why?"

She frowned, and her eyes were tight as she stared past me out the window.

"I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at that."

I shuddered slightly at the sudden bleakness in her voice, but I was relieved. This, at least, was an easy promise to honor. "Whatever you say."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she sighed, and I knew she wanted me to leave now.

"Tomorrow, then." I opened the door unwillingly.

'"Bella?" I turned and she was leaning toward me, her pale, glorious face just inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.

"Sleep well," she said. Her breath blew in my face, stunning me. It was the same exquisite scent that clung to her scarf, but in a more concentrated form. I blinked, thoroughly dazed. She leaned away.

I was unable to move until my brain had somewhat unscrambled itself. Then I stepped out of the car awkwardly, having to use the frame for support. I thought I heard her chuckle, but the sound was too quiet for me to be certain.

She waited till I had stumbled to the front door, and then I heard her engine quietly rev. I turned to watch the silver car disappear around the corner. I realized it was very cold.

I reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Charlie called from the living room. "Bella?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." I walked in to see him. He was watching a baseball game.

"You're home early."

"Am I?" I was surprised.

"It's not even eight yet," he told me. "Did you girls have fun?"

"Yeah — it was lots of fun." My head was spinning as I tried to remember all the way back to the girls' night out I had planned. "They both found dresses."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm just tired. I did a lot of walking."

"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I wondered what my face looked like.

"I'm just going to call Jessica first."

"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes — but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it tomorrow."

"Well, give her a chance to get home first."

"Right," I agreed.

I went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. I was really feeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all. Get a grip, I told myself.

The phone rang suddenly, startling me. I yanked it off the hook.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Bella?"

"Hey, Jess, I was just going to call you."

"You made it home?" Her voice was relieved… and surprised.

"Yes. I left my jacket in your car — could you bring it to me tomorrow?"

"Sure. But tell me what happened!" she demanded.

"Um, tomorrow — in Trig, okay?"

She caught on quickly. "Oh, is your dad there?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then. Bye!" I could hear the impatience in her voice.

"Bye, Jess."

I walked up the stairs slowly, a heavy stupor clouding my mind. I went through the motions of getting ready for bed without paying any attention to what I was doing. It wasn't until I was in the shower — the water too hot, burning my skin — that I realized I was freezing. I shuddered violently for several minutes before the steaming spray could finally relax my rigid muscles. Then I stood in the shower, too tired to move, until the hot water began to run out.

I stumbled out, wrapping myself securely in a towel, trying to hold the heat from the water in so the aching shivers wouldn't return. I dressed for bed swiftly and climbed under my quilt, curling into a ball, hugging myself to keep warm. A few small shudders trembled through me.

My mind still swirled dizzily, full of images I couldn't understand, and some I fought to repress.

Nothing seemed clear at first, but as I fell gradually closer to unconsciousness, a few certainties became evident.

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edythe was a vampire. Second, there was part of her — and I didn't know how potent that part might be — that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with her.


	12. INTERROGATIONS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope I'm not being to obvious with what I'm adding extra to our gay story.

It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was sure last night was a dream. Logic wasn't on my side, or common sense. I clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined — like her smell. I was sure I could never have dreamed that up on my own.

It was foggy and dark outside my window, absolutely perfect. She had no reason not to be in school today. I dressed in my heavy clothes, remembering I didn't have a jacket. Further proof that my memory was real. When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone again — I was running later than I'd realized. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased it down with milk straight from the carton, and then hurried out the door. Hopefully the rain would hold off until I could find Jessica.

It was unusually foggy; the air was almost smoky with it. The mist was ice cold where it clung to the exposed skin on my face and neck. I couldn't wait to get the heat going in my truck. It was such a thick fog that I was a few feet down the driveway before I realized there was a car in it: a silver car.

My heart thudded, stuttered, and then picked up again in double time.

I didn't see where she came from, but suddenly she was there, pulling the door open for me.

"Do you want to ride with me today?" she asked, amused by my expression as she caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in her voice. She was really giving me a choice — I was free to refuse, and part of her hoped for that. It was a vain hope.

"Yes, thank you," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. As I stepped into the warm car, I noticed a light tan jacket was slung over the headrest of the passenger seat. The door closed behind me, and, sooner than should be possible, she was sitting next to me, starting the car.

"What's this?"

"Emmett's jacket. I didn't want you to get sick or something." She didn't seem to mind borrowing her brothers' stuff, but who knew how they felt about it? One of the confused images I remembered from the car accident, however many weeks ago it was now, was the faces of her siblings, watching from a distance. The word that had best summed up Emmett's face was confusing. 

I might have a hard time being afraid of Edythe, but I didn't thing I'd have the same problem with Emmett. He was a big guy. 

"I'm good," I told her, and thumped my fist against my chest twice. "Immune system in top form."

She laughed, but I wasn't sure if it was because she thought I was funny, or ridiculous. Oh well. Just as long as I got to hear her laugh.

We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, always too fast, feeling awkward. I was, at least. Last night all the walls were down… almost all. I didn't know if we were still being as candid today. It left me tongue-tied. I waited for her to speak.

She turned to smirk at me. "What, no twenty questions today?"

"Do my questions bother you?" I asked, relieved.

"Not as much as your reactions do." She looked like she was joking, but I couldn't be sure.

I frowned. "Do I react badly?"

"No, that's the problem. You take everything so coolly — it's unnatural. It makes me wonder what you're really thinking."

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."

"You edit," she accused.

"Not very much."

"Enough to drive me insane."

"You don't want to hear it," I mumbled, almost whispered. As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. The pain in my voice was very faint; I could only hope she hadn't noticed it.

She didn't respond, and I wondered if I had ruined the mood. Her face was unreadable as we drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to me belatedly.

"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked — more than glad to be alone with her, but remembering that her car was usually full.

"They took Rosalie's car." She shrugged as she parked next to a glossy red convertible with the top up.

"Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Um, wow," I breathed. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?"

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."

"You don't succeed." I laughed and shook my head as we got out of the car. I wasn't late anymore; her lunatic driving had gotten me to school in plenty of time. "So why did Rosalie drive today if it's more conspicuous?"

"Hadn't you noticed? I'm breaking all the rules now." She met me at the front of the car, staying very close to my side as we walked onto campus. I wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch her, but I was afraid she wouldn't like me to.

"Why do you have cars like that at all?" I wondered aloud. "If you're looking for privacy?"

"An indulgence," she admitted with an impish smile. "We all like to drive fast."

"Figures," I muttered under my breath.

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Jessica was waiting, her eyes about to bug out of their sockets. Over her arm, bless her, was my jacket.

"Hey, Jessica," I said when we were a few feet away. "Thanks for remembering." She handed me my jacket without speaking.

"Good morning, Jessica," Edythe said politely. It wasn't really her fault that her voice was so irresistible. It was enough to make anyone question their sexuality.

Or what her eyes were capable of.

"Er… hi." She shifted her wide eyes to me, trying to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." She gave me a meaningful look, and I suppressed a sigh. What on earth was I going to tell her?

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us.

"What are you going to tell her?" Edythe murmured.

"Hey, I thought you couldn't read my mind!" I hissed.

"I can't," she said, startled. Then understanding brightened her eyes. "However, I can read hers — she'll be waiting to ambush you in class."

I groaned as I pulled off the jacket I was finally convinced to wear into wearing and handed it to him, replacing it with my own. She folded it over her arm.

"So what are you going to tell her?"

"A little help?" I pleaded. "What does she want to know?"

She shook her head, grinning wickedly. "That's not fair."

"No, you not sharing what you know — now that's not fair."

She deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside the door to my first class.

"She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me," she finally said.

"Yikes. What should I say?" I tried to keep my expression very innocent. People were passing us on their way to class, probably staring, but I was barely aware of them.

"Hmmm." She paused to catch a stray lock of hair that was escaping the twist on my neck and wound it back into place. My heart spluttered hyperactively. "I suppose you could say yes to the first… if you don't mind — it's easier than any other explanation."

"I don't mind," I said in a faint voice.

"And as for her other question… well, I'll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself." One side of her mouth pulled up into my favorite dimpled smile. I couldn't catch my breath soon enough to respond to that remark. She turned and walked away.

"I'll see you at lunch," she called over his shoulder. Three people walking in the door stopped to stare at me.

I hurried into class, flushed and irritated. She was such a cheater. Now I was even more worried about what I was going to say to Jessica. I sat in my usual seat, slamming my bag down in aggravation.

"Morning, Bella," Mike said from the seat next to me. I looked up to see an odd, almost resigned look on his face. "How was Port Angeles?"

"It was…" There was no honest way to sum it up. "Great," I finished lamely. "Jessica got a really cute dress."

"Did she say anything about Monday night?" he asked, his eyes brightening. I smiled at the turn the conversation had taken.

"She said she had a really good time," I assured him.

"She did?" he said eagerly.

"Most definitely."

Mr. Mason called the class to order then, asking us to turn in our papers. English and then Government passed in a blur, while I worried about how to explain things to Jessica and agonized over whether Edythe would really be listening to what I said through the medium of Jess's thoughts. How very inconvenient her little talent could be — when it wasn't saving my life.

The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low, oppressing clouds. I smiled up at the sky.

Edythe was right, of course. When I walked into Trig Jessica was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. I reluctantly went to sit by her, trying to convince myself it would be better to get it over with as soon as possible.

"Tell me everything!" she commanded before I was in the seat.

"What do you want to know?" I hedged.

"What happened last night?"

"She bought me dinner, and then she drove me home."

She glared at me, her expression stiff with skepticism. "How did you get home so fast?"

"She drives like a maniac. It was terrifying." I hoped she heard that.

"Was it like a date — did you tell her to meet you there? Are you gay? Is she gay? Are you all both out?"

I hadn't thought of that. "No — I was very surprised to see her there. I'm not sure about either of us what to describe us. I've never really thought about my sexuality before like that. So I'm not so sure what I would tell people if I did come out. For her being out I have no idea."

Her lips puckered in disappointment at the transparent honesty in my voice.

"But she picked you up for school today?" she probed.

"Yes — that was a surprise, too. She noticed I didn't have a jacket last night," I explained.

"So are you going out again?"

"She offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because she thinks toy truck isn't up to it — does that count?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Well, then, yes."

"W-o-w." She exaggerated the word into three syllables. "Edythe Cullen."

"I know," I agreed. "Wow" didn't even cover it.

"Wait!" Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic. "Has she kissed you?"

"No," I mumbled. "It's not like that."

She looked disappointed. I'm sure I did, too.

"Do you think Saturday… ?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I really doubt it." The discontent in my voice was poorly disguised.

"What did you talk about?" She pushed for more information in a whisper. Class had started but Mr. Varner wasn't paying close attention and we weren't the only ones still talking.

"I don't know, Jess, lots of stuff," I whispered back. "We talked about the English essay a little." A very, very little. I think she mentioned it in passing.

"Please, Bella," she begged. "Give me some details."

"Well… okay, I've got one. You should have seen the waitress flirting with her — it was over the top.

But she didn't pay any attention to her at all." Let her make what she could of that.

"That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was she pretty?"

"Very — and probably nineteen or twenty."

"Even better. She must like you."

"I think so, but it's hard to tell. She's always so cryptic," I threw in for her benefit, sighing.

"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with her," she breathed.

"Why?" I was shocked, but she didn't understand my reaction.

"She's so… intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to her." She made a face, probably remembering this morning or last night, when she'd turned the overwhelming force of her eyes on her.

"I do have some trouble with incoherency when I'm around her," I admitted.

"Oh well. She is unbelievably gorgeous." Jessica shrugged as if this excused any flaws. Which, in her book, it probably did.

"There's a lot more to her than that."

"Really? Like what?"

I wished I had let it go. Almost as much as I was hoping she'd been kidding about listening in.

"I can't explain it right… but she's even more unbelievable behind the face." The vampire who wanted to be good — who ran around saving people's lives so she wouldn't be a monster… I stared toward the front of the room.

"Is that possible?" She giggled.

I ignored her, trying to look like I was paying attention to Mr. Varner.

"So you like her, then?" She wasn't about to give up.

"Yes," I said curtly.

"I mean, do you really like her?" she urged.

"Yes," I said again, blushing. I hoped that detail wouldn't register in her thoughts.

She'd had enough with the single syllable answers. "How much do you like her?"

"Too much," I whispered back. "More than she likes me. But I don't see how I can help that." I sighed, one blush blending into the next.

Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Jessica for an answer.

She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, I took evasive action.

"In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night," I told her.

"You're kidding! What did you say?!" she gasped, completely sidetracked.

"I told him you said you had a lot of fun — he looked pleased."

"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"

We spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish on a minute description of Mike's facial expressions. I wouldn't have helped draw it out for as long as I did if I wasn't worried about the subject returning to me.

And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving my books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must have tipped Jessica off.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.

"I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that hse wouldn't disappear inconveniently again. But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall — looking more like a Greek goddess than anyone had a right to — Edythe was waiting for me. Jessica took one look, rolled her eyes, and departed.

"See you later, Bella." Her voice was thick with implications. I might have to turn off the ringer on the phone.

"Hello." Her voice was amused and irritated at the same time. She had been listening, it was obvious.

"Hi."

I couldn't think of anything else to say, and she didn't speak — biding her time, I presumed — so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking with Edythe through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first day here; everyone stared.

She led the way into the line, still not speaking, though her eyes returned to my face every few seconds, their expression speculative. It seemed to me that irritation was winning out over amusement as the dominant emotion in her face. I fidgeted nervously with the zipper on my jacket.

She stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.

"What are you doing?" I objected. "You're not getting all that for me?"

She shook her head, stepping forward to buy the food.

"Half is for me, of course."

I raised one eyebrow.

She led the way to the same place we'd sat that one time before. From the other end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us in amazement as we sat across from each other. Edythe seemed oblivious.

"Take whatever you want," she said, pushing the tray toward me.

"I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around in my hands, "what would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"

"You're always curious." She grimaced, shaking her head. She glared at me, holding my eyes as she lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, and deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I watched, eyes wide.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" she asked condescendingly.

I wrinkled my nose. "I did once… on a dare," I admitted. "It wasn't so bad."

She laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised." Something over my shoulder seemed to catch her attention.

"Jessica's analyzing everything I do — she'll break it down for you later." She pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention of Jessica brought a hint of her former irritation back to her features.

I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowing she was about to start.

"So the waitress was pretty, was she?" she asked casually.

"You really didn't notice?"

"No. I wasn't paying attention. I had a lot on my mind."

"Poor girl." I could afford to be generous now.

"Something you said to Jessica… well, it bothers me." She refused to be distracted. Her voice was husky, and she glanced up from under her lashes with troubled eyes.

"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what they say about eavesdropper," I reminded her.

"I warned you I would be listening."

"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."

"You did," she agreed, but her voice was still rough. "You aren't precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking — everything. I just wish… that you wouldn't be thinking some things."

I scowled. "That's quite a distinction."

"But that's not really the point at the moment."

"Then what is?" We were inclined toward each other across the table now. She had her small white hands folded under her chin; I leaned forward, my right hand cupped around my neck. I had to remind myself that we were in a crowded lunchroom, with probably many curious eyes on us. It was too easy to get wrapped up in our own private, tense little bubble.

"Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" she murmured, leaning closer to me as she spoke, her dark golden eyes piercing.

I tried to remember how to exhale. I had to look away before it came back to me.

"You're doing it again," I muttered.

Her eyes opened wide with surprise. "What?"

"Dazzling me," I admitted, trying to concentrate as I looked back at her.

"Oh." She frowned.

"It's not your fault," I sighed. "You can't help it."

"Are you going to answer the question?"

I looked down. "Yes."

"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really think that?" She was irritated again.

"Yes, I really think that." I kept my eyes down on the table, my eyes tracing the pattern of the faux wood grains printed on the laminate. The silence dragged on. I stubbornly refused to be the first to break it this time, fighting hard against the temptation to peek at her expression.

Finally she spoke, voice velvet soft. "You're wrong."

I glanced up to see that her eyes were gentle.

"You can't know that," I disagreed in a whisper. I shook my head in doubt, though my heart throbbed at her words and I wanted so badly to believe them.

"What makes you think so?" Her liquid topaz eyes were penetrating — trying futilely, I assumed, to lift the truth straight from my mind.

I stared back, struggling to think clearly in spite of her face, to find some way to explain. As I searched for the words, I could see her getting impatient; frustrated by my silence, she started to scowl. I lifted my hand from my neck, and held up one finger.

"Let me think," I insisted finishing my pizza and the apple and grabbing more food off the plate. She didn't seem to mind if I ate it all, I was still hungry. Her expression cleared, now that she was satisfied that I was planning to answer.

I dropped my hand to the table, moving my left hand so that my palms were pressed together. Taking a break from chewing. I stared at my hands, twisting and untwisting my fingers, as I finally spoke.

"Well, aside from the obvious, sometimes…" I hesitated. "I can't be sure — I don't know how to read minds — but sometimes it seems like you're trying to say goodbye when you're saying something else."

That was the best I could sum up the sensation of anguish that her words triggered in me at times.

"Perceptive," she whispered. And there was the anguish again, surfacing as she confirmed my fear. "That's exactly why you're wrong, though," she began to explain, but then her eyes narrowed. And then she looked down at the tray and noticed most of the food was almost gone and shrugged. "What do you mean, 'the obvious'?"

"Well, look at me," I said, unnecessarily as she was already staring. "I'm absolutely ordinary — well, except for bad things like all the near-death experiences and being so clumsy that I'm almost disabled.

And look at you." I waved my hand toward her and all her bewildering perfection.

Her brow creased angrily for a moment, then smoothed as her eyes took on a knowing look. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. I'll admit you're dead-on about the bad things," she chuckled blackly, "but you didn't hear what every human male in this school was thinking on your first day. You even had some girls questioning their sexuality. Jessica for one." She laughed but continued.

I blinked, astonished. "I don't believe it…" I mumbled to myself.

"Trust me just this once — you are the opposite of ordinary."

My embarrassment was much stronger than my pleasure at the look that came into her eyes when she said this. I quickly reminded her of my original argument.

"But I'm not saying goodbye," I pointed out.

"Don't you see? That's what proves me right. I care the most, because if I can do it" — she shook her head, seeming to struggle with the thought — "if leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you safe."

I glared. "And you don't think I would do the same?"

"You'd never have to make the choice."

Abruptly, her unpredictable mood shifted again; a mischievous, devastating smile rearranged her features.

"Of course, keeping you safe is beginning to feel like a full-time occupation that requires my constant presence."

"No one has tried to do away with me today," I reminded her, grateful for the lighter subject. I didn't want her to talk about goodbyes anymore. If I had to, I supposed I could purposefully put myself in danger to keep her close… I banished that thought before her quick eyes read it on my face. That idea would definitely get me in trouble.

"Yet," she added.

"Yet," I agreed; I would have argued, but now I wanted her to be expecting disasters.

"I have another question for you." Her face was still casual.

"Shoot."

"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying no to all your admirers?"

I made a face at the memory. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for the Tyler thing yet," I warned her. "It's your fault that he's deluded himself into thinking I'm going to prom with him."

"Oh, he would have found a chance to ask you without me — I just really wanted to watch your face," she chuckled, I would have been angrier if her laughter wasn't so fascinating. "If I'd asked you, would you have turned me down?" she asked, still laughing to herself.

"Probably not," I admitted. "But I would have canceled later — faked an illness or a sprained ankle."

She was puzzled. "Why would you do that?"

I shook my head sadly. "You've never seen me in Gym, I guess, but I would have thought you would understand."

"Are you referring to the fact that you can't walk across a flat, stable surface without finding something to trip over?"

"Obviously."

"That wouldn't be a problem." She was very confident. "It's all in the leading." She could see that I was about to protest, and she cut me off. "But you never told me — are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something different?"

As long as the "we" part was in, I didn't care about anything else.

"I'm open to alternatives," I allowed. "But I do have a favor to ask."

She looked wary, as she always did when I asked an open-ended question. "What?"

"Can I drive?"

She frowned. "Why?"

"Well, mostly because when I told Charlie I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask again, and leaving my truck at home would just bring up the subject unnecessarily. And also, because your driving frightens me."

She rolled her eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving."

She shook her head in disgust, but then her eyes were serious again. "Won't you want to tell your father that you're spending the day with me?" There was an undercurrent to her question that I didn't understand.

"With Charlie, less is always more." I was definite about that. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye… and you can stay with me, if you'd like to." Again, she was leaving the choice up to me.

"And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?" I asked, excited by the idea of unraveling another of the unknowns.

"Yes." She smiled, and then paused. "But if you don't want to be… alone with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."

I was miffed. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle — just in population. In physical size —"

"But apparently," she interrupted me, "your number wasn't up in Phoenix. So I'd rather you stayed near me." Her eyes did that unfair smoldering thing again.

I couldn't argue, with the eyes or the motivation, and it was a moot point anyway. "As it happens, I don't mind being alone with you."

"I know," she sighed, brooding. "You should tell Charlie, though."

"Why in the world would I do that?"

Her eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring you back."

I gulped. But, after a moment of thought, I was sure. "I think I'll take my chances."

She exhaled angrily, and looked away.

"Let's talk about something else," I suggested.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked. She was still annoyed.

I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone's hearing. As I cast my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of his sister, Alice, staring at me. The others were looking at Edythe. I looked away swiftly, back to her, and I. asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend… to hunt? Charlie said it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."

She stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious.

"Bears?" I gasped, and she smirked. "You know, bears are not in season," I added sternly, to hide my shock.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," she informed me.

She watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.

"Bears?" I repeated with difficulty.

"Grizzly is Emmett's favorite." Her voice was still offhand, but her eyes were scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.

"Hmmm," I said, taking another bite of brownie, the last thing on the loaded tray, as an excuse to look down. I chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up.

"So," I said after a moment, finally meeting her now-anxious gaze. "What's your favorite?"

She raised an eyebrow and the corners of her mouth turned down in disapproval. "Mountain lion."

"Ah," I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.

"Of course," she said, and her tone mirrored mine, "we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators — ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but where's the fun in that?"

She smiled teasingly.

"Where indeed," I murmured around another bite of brownie.

"Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season — they're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable." She smiled at some remembered joke.

"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.

She snickered, shaking her head. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"I'm trying to picture it — but I can't," I admitted. "How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"

"Oh, we have weapons." She flashed her bright teeth in a brief, threatening smile. I fought back a shiver before it could expose me. "Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Emmett hunting."

I couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down my spine. I peeked across the cafeteria toward Emmett, grateful that he wasn't looking my way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were somehow even more menacing now.

Edythe followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared at her, unnerved.

"Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.

"More like the lion, or so they tell me," she said lightly. "Perhaps our preferences are indicative."

I tried to smile. "Perhaps," I repeated. But my mind was filled with opposing images that I couldn't merge together. "Is that something I might get to see?"

"Absolutely not!" Her face turned even whiter than usual, and her eyes were suddenly furious. I leaned back, stunned and — though I'd never admit it to her — frightened by her reaction. She leaned back as well, folding her arms across her chest.

"Too scary for me?" I asked when I could control my voice again.

"If that were it, I would take you out tonight," she said, her voice cutting. "You need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more beneficial for you."

"Then why?" I pressed, trying to ignore her angry expression.

She glared at me for a long minute.

"Later," she finally said. She was on her feet in one lithe movement. "We're going to be late."

I glanced around, startled to see that she was right and the cafeteria was nearly vacant. When I was with her, the time and the place were such a muddled blur that I completely lost track of both. I jumped up, grabbing my bag from the back of my chair.

"Later, then," I agreed. I wouldn't forget.


	13. COMPLICATIONS

Everyone watched us as we walked together to our lab table. I noticed that she no longer angled the chair to sit as far from me as the desk would allow. Instead, she sat quite close beside me, our arms almost touching.

Mr. Banner backed into the room then — what superb timing the man had — pulling a tall metal frame on wheels that held a heavy-looking, outdated TV and VCR. A movie day — the lift in the class atmosphere was almost tangible.

Mr. Banner shoved the tape into the reluctant VCR and walked to the wall to turn off the lights.

And then, as the room went black, I was suddenly hyperaware that Edythe was sitting less than an inch from me. I was stunned by the unexpected electricity that flowed through me, amazed that it was possible to be more aware of her than I already was. A crazy impulse to reach over and touch her, to stroke her perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly overwhelmed me. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, my hands balling into fists. I was losing my mind.

The opening credits began, lighting the room by a token amount. My eyes, of their own accord, flickered to her. I smiled sheepishly as I realized her posture was identical to mine, fists clenched under her arms, right down to the eyes, peering sideways at me. She grinned back, her eyes somehow managing to smolder, even in the dark. I looked away before I could start hyperventilating. It was absolutely ridiculous that I should feel dizzy.

The hour seemed very long. I couldn't concentrate on the movie — I didn't even know what subject it was on. I tried unsuccessfully to relax, but the electric current that seemed to be originating from somewhere in her body never slackened. Occasionally I would permit myself a quick glance in her direction, but she never seemed to relax, either. The overpowering craving to touch her also refused to fade, and I crushed my fists safely against my ribs until my fingers were aching with the effort.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, flexing my stiff fingers. Edythe chuckled beside me.

"Well, that was interesting," she murmured. Her voice was dark and her eyes were cautious.

"Umm," was all I was able to respond.

"Shall we?" she asked, rising fluidly.

I almost groaned. Time for Gym. I stood with care, worried my balance might have been affected by the strange new intensity between us.

She walked me to my next class in silence and paused at the door; I turned to say goodbye. Her face  
startled me — her expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch her flared as strong as before. My goodbye stuck in my throat.

She raised her hand, hesitant, conflict raging in her eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with her fingertips. Her skin was as icy as ever, but the trail her fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm — like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

She turned without a word and strode quickly away from me.

I walked into the gym, lightheaded and wobbly. I drifted to the locker room, changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware that there were other people surrounding me. Reality didn't fully set in until I was handed a racket. It wasn't heavy, yet it felt very unsafe in my hand. I could see a few of the other kids in class eyeing me furtively. Coach Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.

Mercifully, some vestiges of Mike's chivalry still survived; he came to stand beside me.

"Do you want to be a team?"

"Thanks, Mike — you don't have to do this, you know." I grimaced apologetically.

"Don't worry, I'll keep out of your way." He grinned. Sometimes it was so easy to like Mike.

It didn't go smoothly. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and clip Mike's shoulder on the same swing. I spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind my back. Despite being handicapped by me, Mike was pretty good; he won three games out of four singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned high five when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.

"So," he said as we walked off the court.

"So what?"

"You and Cullen, huh? Are you gay?" he asked, his tone rebellious. My previous feeling of affection disappeared.

"That's none of your business, Mike," I warned, internally cursing Jessica straight to the fiery pits of Hades.

"I don't like it, it's unnatural," he muttered anyway.

"You don't have to," I snapped.

"He looks at you like… like you're something to eat," he continued, ignoring me.

I choked back the hysteria that threatened to explode, but a small giggle managed to get out despite my efforts. He glowered at me. I waved and fled to the locker room.

I dressed quickly, something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against the walls of my stomach my argument with Mike already a distant memory. I was wondering if Edythe would be waiting, or if I should meet her at her car. What if her family was there? I felt a wave of real terror. Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew, or not?

By the time I walked out of the gym, I had just about decided to walk straight home without even looking toward the parking lot. But my worries were unnecessary. Edythe was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the gym, her breathtaking face untroubled now. As I walked to her side, I felt a peculiar sense of release.

"Hi," I breathed, smiling hugely.

"Hello." Her answering smile was brilliant. "How was Gym?"

My face fell a tiny bit. "Fine," I lied.

"Really?" She was unconvinced. Her eyes shifted their focus slightly, looking over my shoulder and narrowing. I glanced behind me to see Mike's back as he walked away.

"What?" I demanded.

Her eyes slid back to mine, still tight. "Newton's getting on my nerves. How dare he speak to you like that. Talk about you like that."

"You weren't listening again?" I was horror-struck. All traces of my sudden good humor vanished. 

"How's your head?" she asked innocently.

"You're unbelievable!" I turned, stomping away in the general direction of the parking lot, though I hadn't ruled out walking at this point.

She kept up with me easily.

"You were the one who mentioned how I'd never seen you in Gym — it made me curious." She didn't sound repentant, so I ignored her.

We walked in silence — a furious, embarrassed silence on my part — to her car. But I had to stop a few steps away — a crowd of people, all boys, were surrounding it.

Then I realized they weren't surrounding the Volvo, they were actually circled around Rosalie's red convertible, unmistakable lust in their eyes. None of them even looked up as Edythe slid between them to open his door. I climbed quickly in the passenger side, also unnoticed.

"Ostentatious," she muttered.

"What kind of car is that?" I asked.

"An M3."

"I don't speak Car and Driver."

"It's a BMW." She rolled her eyes, not looking at me, trying to back out without running over the car enthusiasts.

I nodded — I'd heard of that one.

"Are you still angry?" she asked as he carefully maneuvered his way out.

"Definitely."

She sighed. "Will you forgive me if I apologize?"

"Maybe… if you mean it. And if you promise not to do it again," I insisted.

Her eyes were suddenly shrewd. "How about if I mean it, and I agree to let you drive Saturday?" she countered my conditions.

I considered, and decided it was probably the best offer I would get. "Deal," I agreed.

"Then I'm very sorry I upset you." Her eyes burned with sincerity for a protracted moment — playing havoc with the rhythm of my heart — and then turned playful. "And I'll be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday morning."

"Um, it doesn't help with the Charlie situation if an unexplained Volvo is left in the driveway."

Her smile was condescending now. "I wasn't intending to bring a car."

"How —"

She cut me off. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there, no car."

I let it go. I had a more pressing question.

"Is it later yet?" I asked significantly.

She frowned. "I supposed it is later."

I kept my expression polite as I waited.

She stopped the car. I looked up, surprised — of course we were already at Charlie's house, parked behind the truck. It was easier to ride with her if I only looked when it was over. When I looked back at her, she was staring at me, measuring with her eyes.

"And you still want to know why you can't see me hunt?" She seemed solemn, but I thought I saw a trace of humor deep in her eyes.

"Well," I clarified, "I was mostly wondering about your reaction."

"Did I frighten you?" Yes, there was definitely humor there.

"No," I lied. She didn't buy it.

"I apologize for scaring you," she persisted with a slight smile, but then all evidence of teasing disappeared.

"It was just the very thought of you being there… while we hunted." Her jaw tightened.

"That would be bad?"

She spoke from between clenched teeth. "Extremely."

"Because… ?"

She took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.

"When we hunt," she spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses… govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…"

She shook her head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.

I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of her eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave nothing away.

But our eyes held, and the silence deepened — and changed. Flickers of the electricity I'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as her gazed unrelentingly into my eyes. It wasn't until my head started to swim that I realized I wasn't breathing. When I drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, she closed his eyes.

"Bella, I think you should go inside now." Her low voice was rough, her eyes on the clouds again.

I opened the door, and the arctic draft that burst into the car helped clear my head. Afraid I might stumble in my woozy state, I stepped carefully out of the car and shut the door behind me without looking back. The whir of the automatic window unrolling made me turn.

"Oh, Bella?" she called after me, her voice more even. She leaned toward the open window with a faint smile on her lips.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow it's my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

She smiled wider, flashing her gleaming teeth. "Ask the questions."

And then she was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing around the corner before I could even collect my thoughts. I smiled as I walked to the house. It was clear she was planning to see me tomorrow, if nothing else.

That night Edythe starred in my dreams, as usual. However, the climate of my unconsciousness had changed. It thrilled with the same electricity that had charged the afternoon, and I tossed and turned restlessly, waking often. It was only in the early hours of the morning that I finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When I woke I was still tired, but edgy as well. I pulled on my brown turtleneck and the inescapable jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of spaghetti straps and shorts. Breakfast was the usual, quiet event I expected. Charlie fried eggs for himself; I had my bowl of cereal. I wondered if he had forgotten about this Saturday. He answered my unspoken question as he stood up to take his plate to the sink.

"About this Saturday…" he began, walking across the kitchen and turning on the faucet.

I cringed. "Yes, Dad?"

"Are you still set on going to Seattle?" he asked.

"That was the plan." I grimaced, wishing he hadn't brought it up so I wouldn't have to compose careful half-truths.

He squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the brush. "And you're sure you can't make it back in time for the dance?"

"I'm not going to the dance, Dad." I glared.

"Didn't anyone ask you?" he asked, trying to hide his concern by focusing on rinsing the plate.

I sidestepped the minefield. "It's a girl's choice."

"Oh." He frowned as he dried his plate.

I sympathized with him. It must be a hard thing, to be a father; living in fear that your daughter would meet a boy she liked, but also having to worry if she didn't. How ghastly it would be, I thought, shuddering, if Charlie had even the slightest inkling of exactly what I did like.

Charlie left then, with a goodbye wave, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and gather my books.

When I heard the cruiser pull away, I could only wait a few seconds before I had to peek out of my window. The silver car was already there, waiting in Charlie's spot on the driveway. I bounded down the stairs and out the front door, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue. I never wanted it to end.

She waited in the car, not appearing to watch as I shut the door behind me without bothering to lock the dead-bolt. I walked to the car, pausing shyly before opening the door and stepping in. She was smiling, relaxed — and, as usual, perfect and beautiful to an excruciating degree.

"Good morning." Her voice was silky. "How are you today?" Her eyes roamed over my face, as if her question was something more than simple courtesy.

"Good, thank you." I was always good — much more than good — when I was near her.

Her gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. "You look tired."

"I couldn't sleep," I confessed, automatically swinging my hair around my shoulder to provide some measure of cover.

"Neither could I," she teased as she started the engine. I was becoming used to the quiet purr. I was sure the roar of my truck would scare me, whenever I got to drive it again.

I laughed. "I guess that's right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did."

"I'd wager you did."

"So what did you do last night?" I asked.

She chuckled. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions."

"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?" My forehead creased. I couldn't imagine anything about me that could be in any way interesting to her.

"What's your favorite color?" she asked, her face grave.

I rolled my eyes. "It changes from day to day."

"What's your favorite color today?" Hers was still solemn.

"Probably brown." I tended to dress according to my mood.

She snorted, dropping her serious expression. "Brown?" she asked skeptically.

"Sure. Brown is warm. I miss brown. Everything that's supposed to be brown — tree trunks, rocks, dirt — is all covered up with squashy green stuff here," I complained.

She seemed fascinated by my little rant. She considered for a moment, staring into my eyes.

"You're right," she decided, serious again. "Brown is warm." She reached over, swiftly, but somehow still hesitantly, to sweep my hair back behind my shoulder.

We were at the school by now. She turned back to me as she pulled into a parking space.

"What music is in your CD player right now?" she asked, her face as somber as if she'd asked for a murder confession.

I realized I'd never removed the CD Phil had given me. When I said the name of the band, she smiled dimples popping out in just the right places, a peculiar expression in her eyes. She flipped open a compartment under her car's CD player, pulled out one of thirty or so CDs that were jammed into the small space, and handed it to me,

"Debussy to this?" She raised an eyebrow.

It was the same CD. I examined the familiar cover art, keeping my eyes down.

It continued like that for the rest of the day. While she walked me to English, when she met me after

Spanish, all through the lunch hour, she questioned me relentlessly about every insignificant detail of my existence. Movies I'd liked and hated, the few places I'd been and the many places I wanted to go, and books — endlessly books.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much. More often than not, I felt self-conscious, certain I must be boring her. But the absolute absorption of her face, and her never-ending stream of questions, compelled me to continue. Mostly her questions were easy, only a very few triggering my easy blushes.

But when I did flush, it brought on a whole new round of questions.

Such as the time she asked my favorite gemstone, and I blurted out topaz before thinking. She'd been flinging questions at me with such speed that I felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer with the first word that comes to mind. I was sure she would have continued down whatever mental list she was following, except for the blush. My face reddened because, until very recently, my favorite gemstone was garnet. It was impossible, while staring back into her topaz eyes, not to remember the reason for the switch. And, naturally, she wouldn't rest until I'd admitted why I was embarrassed.

"Tell me," she finally commanded after persuasion failed — failed only because I kept my eyes safely away from her face.

"It's the color of your eyes today," I sighed, surrendering, staring down at my hands as I fiddled with a piece of my hair. "I suppose if you asked me in two weeks I'd say onyx." I'd given more information than necessary in my unwilling honesty, and I worried it would provoke the strange anger that flared whenever I slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed I was.

But her pause was very short.

"What kinds of flowers do you prefer?" she fired off.

I sighed in relief, and continued with the psychoanalysis.

Biology was a complication again. Edythe had continued with her quizzing up until Mr. Banner entered the room, dragging the audiovisual frame again. As the teacher approached the light switch, I noticed Edythe slide her chair slightly farther away from mine. It didn't help. As soon as the room was dark, there was the same electric spark, the same restless craving to stretch my hand across the short space and touch her cold skin, as yesterday.

I leaned forward on the table, resting my chin on my folded arms, my hidden fingers gripping the table's edge as I fought to ignore the irrational longing that unsettled me. I didn't look at her, afraid that if she was looking at me, it would only make self-control that much harder. I sincerely tried to watch the movie, but at the end of the hour I had no idea what I'd just seen. I sighed in relief again when Mr. Banner turned the lights on, finally glancing at Edythe; she was looking at me, her eyes ambivalent.

She rose in silence and then stood still, waiting for me. We walked toward the gym in silence, like yesterday. And, also like yesterday, she touched my face wordlessly — this time with the back of her cool hand, stroking once from my temple to my jaw — before she turned and walked away. Gym passed quickly as I watched Mike's one-man badminton show. He didn't speak to me today, either in response to my vacant expression or because he was still angry about our squabble yesterday. Honestly I was okay with that.

I hurried to change afterward, ill at ease, knowing the faster I moved, the sooner I would be with Edythe. The pressure made me more clumsy than usual, but eventually I made it out the door, feeling the same release when I saw her standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading across my face.

She smiled in reaction before launching into more cross-examination.

Her questions were different now, though, not as easily answered. She wanted to know what I missed about home, insisting on descriptions of anything she wasn't familiar with. We sat in front of Charlie's house for hours, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted around us in a sudden deluge.

I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote — bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant — the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me — to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way they held on to the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe it to her.

Her quiet, probing questions kept me talking freely, forgetting, in the dim light of the storm, to be embarrassed for monopolizing the conversation. Finally, when I had finished detailing my cluttered room at home, she paused instead of responding with another question.

"Are you finished?" I asked in relief.

"Not even close — but your father will be home soon."

"Charlie!" I suddenly recalled his existence, and sighed. I looked out at the rain-darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. "How late is it?" I wondered out loud as I glanced at the clock. I was surprised by the time — Charlie would be driving home now.

"It's half-light," Edythe murmured, looking at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds. Her voice was thoughtful, as if her mind were somewhere far away. I stared at her as she gazed unseeingly out the windshield.

"What does that mean?" 

"It's another word for twilight." She smiled despite me breaking the rule today about questions.

I was still staring when her eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.

"It's the safest time of day for us," she said, answering the unspoken question in my eyes. "The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way… the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?" She smiled wistfully.

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." I frowned. "Not that you see them here  
much."

She laughed, and the mood abruptly lightened.

"Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him that you'll be with me Saturday…"

She raised one eyebrow.

"Thanks, but no thanks." I gathered my books, realizing I was stiff from sitting still so long. "So is it my turn tomorrow, then?"

"Certainly not!" Her face was teasingly outraged. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't I?"

"What more is there?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." She reached across to open my door for me, and her sudden proximity sent my heart into frenzied palpitations.

But her hand froze on the handle.

"Not good," she muttered.

"What is it?" I was surprised to see that her jaw was clenched, her eyes disturbed.

She glanced at me for a brief second. "Another complication," she said glumly.

She flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from me.

The flash of headlights through the rain caught my attention as a dark car pulled up to the curb just a few feet away, facing us.

"Charlie's around the corner," she warned, staring through the downpour at the other vehicle.

I hopped out at once, despite my confusion and curiosity. The rain was louder as it glanced off my jacket.

I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it was too dark. I could see Edythe illuminated in the glare of the new car's headlights; she was still staring ahead, her gaze locked on something or someone I couldn't see. Her expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance.

Then she revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds.

"Hey, Bella," called a familiar, husky voice from the driver's side of the little black car.

"Julie?" I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Charlie's cruiser swung around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.

Julie was already climbing out, her wide grin visible even through the darkness. In the passenger seat was a much older man, a heavyset man with a memorable face — a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running through the russet skin like an old leather jacket. 

And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. Julie's father, Billy Black. I knew him immediately, though in the more than five years since I'd seen him last I'd managed to forget his name when Charlie had spoken of him my first day here. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His eyes were wide, as if in shock or fear, his nostrils flared. My smile faded.

Another complication, Edythe had said.

Billy still stared at me with intense, anxious eyes. I groaned internally. Had Billy recognized Edythe so easily? Could he really believe the impossible legends his daughter had scoffed at?

The answer was clear in Billy's eyes. Yes. Yes, he could.


	14. BALANCING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clues clues clues.

“Billy!” Charlie called as soon as he got out of his car.

I turned toward the house, motioning to Jules for her to follow as I ducked under the porch. I heard Charlie greeting her loudly behind me.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you behind the wheel, young lady.”

“We get our permits early on the rez,” Jules said while I unlocked the door and flicked on the porch light.

Charlie laughed. “Sure you do.”

“I have to get around somehow.” I recognized Billy’s voice easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger, just a child.

I went inside, leaving the door open behind me and turning on lights before I hung up my jacket. Then I stood in the door, watching anxiously as Charlie and Jules helped Billy out of the car and into his wheelchair.

I backed out of the way as the three of them hurried in, shaking off the rain.

“This is a surprise,” Charlie was saying.

“It’s been too long,” Billy answered. “I hope it’s not a bad time.” His dark eyes flashed up to me again, their expression unreadable.

“No, it’s great. I hope you can stay for the game.” 

Jules grinned. “I think that’s the plan- our TV broke last week.”

Billy made a face at his daughter. 

“And, of course, Jules was eager to see Bella again,” he added. Jules returned the scowl.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, turning toward the kitchen. Billy’s searching gaze made me uncomfortable.

“Naw, we ate just before we came,” Jules answered.

“How about you, Dad? I called over my shoulder as I escaped around the corner.

“Sure,” he replied, his voice moving in the direction of the front room and the TV. I could hear Billy’s chair follow.

The grilled cheese sandwiches were in the frying pan and I was slicing up a tomato when I sensed someone behind me.

“So, how are things?” Jules asked.

“Pretty good.” I smiled. Her enthusiasm was hard to resist. “How about you?” Did you finish you car?”

“No.” She frowned. “I still need parts. We borrowed that one.” She pointed with her thumb in the direction of the front yard.

“Sorry. I haven’t seen any... what was it you were looking for?”

“Master cylinder.” She grinned. “Is something wrong with the truck?” She added suddenly.

“No.”

“Oh. I just wondered because you weren’t driving it.” 

I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to check on the bottom side. “I got a ride with a friend.” 

“Nice ride.” Jules voice was admiring. “I didn’t recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here.”

I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes down as I flipped sandwiches.

“My Dad seemed to know her from somewhere.”

“Jules, could you hand me some plates? They’re in the cupboard over the sink.”

“Sure.”

She got the plates in silence. I hoped she would let it drop now.

“So who was it?” She asked, setting two plates on the counter next to me.

I sighed in defeat. “Edythe Cullen.”

To my surprise, she laughed. I glanced down at her. She looked a little embarrassed.

“Guess that explains it, then,” she said. “I wondered why my dad was acting so strange.”

I faked an innocent expression. “That’s right. He doesn’t like the Cullens.”

“Superstitious old bat,” Jules muttered under her breath.

“You don’t think he’d say anything to Charlie?” I couldn’t help asking, the words coming out in a low rush.

Jules stared at me for a minute, and I couldn’t read the expression in her dark eyes. “I doubt it,” she finally answered. “I think Charlie chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven’t spoken much since- tonight is sort of a reunion, I think. I don’t think he’d bring it up again.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to sound like it didn’t matter much to me either way.

I stayed in the front room after I carried food out to Charlie, pretending to watch the game while chatting absently with Jules. Mostly I was listening to the adults’ conversation, watching for any sign that Billy was about to rat me out, trying to think of ways to stop him if he started.

It was a long night. I had a lot of homework that was going undone, but I was afraid to leave Billy alone with Charlie. Finally, the game ended.

“Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?” Jules asked as she pushed her father over the lip of the threshold.

“Uh, I’m not sure,” I hedged.

“That was fun, Charlie.” Billy said.

“Come up for the next game,” Charlie encouraged.

“Sure, sure,” Billy said. “We’ll be here. Have a good night.” His eyes shifted to mine, and his smile disappeared. “You take care, Bella,” he added seriously.

“Thanks,” I muttered, looking away.

I headed for the stairs while Charlie waved from the doorway.

“Wait, Bella.” He said.

I cringed. Had Billy gotten something in before I’d joined them in the living room?

But Charlie was relaxed, still grinning from the unexpected visit.

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to you tonight. How was your day?”

“Good.” I hesitated with one foot on the first stair, trying to think of details I could safely share. “My badminton team won all four games.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you could play badminton.”

“Well, actually I can’t, but my partner is really good,” I admitted.

“Who is it?” He asked with token interest.

“Um... Mike Newton.”

“Oh yeah- you said you were friends with the Newton boy.” He perked up. “Nice family.” He mused for a minute. “He didn’t want you to ask him to the dance with weekend?”

“Dad!” I groaned. “He’s kind of dating my friend Jessica. Besides you know I can’t dance.”

“Oh yeah,” he muttered. Then he smiled at me apologetically. “So I guess it’s good you’ll be gone Saturday... I’ve made plans to go fishing with the guys from the station. The weather’s supposed to be real warm. But if you wanted to put your trip off till someone could go with you, I’d stay home. I know I leave you here alone too much.”

“Dad, you’re doing a great job,” I said hoping my relief didn’t show. “I’ve never minded being alone- I’m too much like you.” I grinned at him, and he smiled his crinkly-eyed smile.

I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. When I woke to the pearl gray morning, my mood was blissful. The tense evening with Billy and Julie seemed harmless enough now; I decided to forget it completely. I caught myself whistling while I was pulling the front part of my hair back into a barrette, and later again as I skipped down the stairs. Charlie noticed.

“You’re cheerful this morning,” he commented over breakfast.

I shrugged. “It’s Friday.”

I hurried so I would be ready to go the second Charlie left. I had my bag packed, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door as soon as I was sure Charlie would be out of sight, Edythe was faster. She waiting, windows down, engine off.

I didn’t hesitate this time as I climbed into the passenger seat. She flourished her dimples, and my chest did its mini-heart attack thing. I couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful- human, goddess, or angel. There was nothing about her that could be improved upon.

“How did you sleep?” She asked. I wondered if she knew just how irresistible her voice was, if she made it that way on purpose.

“Fine. How was your night?”

“Pleasant.”

“Can I ask what you did?”

“No.” She grinned. “Today is still mine.” 

She wanted to know about people today: more about my mom, her hobbies, what we’d done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I’d known, my few school friends- embarrassing me when he asked about boys or girls I’d dated. 

I’d never really realized looking in the mirror that I would be interested in girls too until I met Edythe. Not that it is surprising that I would like a girl. I had been asked several times before by everyone I knew if I was interested in girls or if I had even considered transitioning. That was definitely an awkward turn for our conversation to go. I never really thought much about who I would end up with. I didn’t really care about gender, but maybe I did always prefer women. I’d never felt this way though about anyone other than Edythe. She’d seemed as surprised as Jessica and Angela by my lack of romantic history.

“So you’ve never met anyone you wanted?” She asked in a serious tone that made me wonder what she was thinking about.

I was grudgingly honest. “Not in Phoenix.”

Her lips pressed together into a hard line.

We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the blur that was rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of her brief pause to take a bite of my second bagel.

“I should have let you drive yourself today,” she announced, while I chewed.

“Why?” I demanded.

“I’m leaving with Alice after lunch.”

“Oh.” I blinked, bewildered and disappointed. “That’s okay, it’s not that far a walk.”

She frowned at me impatiently. “I’m not going to make you walk home. We’ll go get your truck and leave it here for you.”

“I don’t have my key with me,” I sighed. “I really don’t mind walking.” What I minded was losing my time with her.

She shook her head. “Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition- unless you’re afraid someone might steal it.” She laughed at the thought.

“Alright,” I agreed, pursing my lips. I was pretty sure my key was in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry room. Even if she broke into my house, or whatever she was planning, she’d never find it. She seemed to feel the challenge in my consent. She smiled overconfident.

“So where are you going?” I asked as casually as I could manage.

“Hunting,” she answered grimly. “If I’m going to be alone with you tomorrow, I’m going to take whatever precautions I can.” Her face grew morose... and pleading. “You can always cancel, you know.”

I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of her eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear her, no matter how real the danger might be. I doesn’t matter, I repeated in my head.

“No,” I whispered, glancing back at her face. “I can’t.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she murmured bleakly. Her eyes seemed to darken in color as I watched.

I changed the subject. “What time will I see you tomorrow?” I asked, already depressed by the thought of her leaving now.

“That depends... it’s a Saturday, don’t you want to sleep in?” She offered.

“No,” I answered to fast. She restrained a smile.

“The same time as usual, then,” she decided. “Will Charlie be there?”

“No, he’s fishing tomorrow.” I beamed at the memory of how conveniently things had worked out.

Her voice turned sharp. “And if you don’t come home, what will he think?”

“I have no idea,” I answered coolly. “He knows I’ve been meaning to do the laundry. Maybe he’ll think I fell in the washer.”

She scowled at me and I scowled back. Her anger was much more impressive than mine.

“What are you hunting tonight?” I asked when I was sure I had lost the glowering contest.

Whatever we find in the park. We aren’t going far.” She seemed bemused by my casual reference to her secret realities.

“Why are you going with Alice?” I wondered.

“Alice is the most... supportive.” She frowned as she spoke.

“And the other?” I asked timidly. “What are they?”

Her brow puckered for a brief moment. “Incredulous, for the most part.” 

I peeked quickly behind me at her family. They sat staring off in different directions, exactly the same as the first time I’d seen them. Only now there were four; their beautiful bronze haired sister sat across from me, her golden eyes troubled.

“They don’t like me,” I guessed.

“That’s not it,” she disagreed, but her eyes were innocent. “They don’t understand why I can’t leave you alone.”

I grimaced. “Neither do I, for that matter.”

Edythe shook her head slowly, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling before she met my gaze again. “I told you- you don’t see yourself clearly at all. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known. You fascinate me.”

I glared at her, sure she was teasing now.

She smiled as she deciphered my expression. “Having the advantages I do,” she murmured, touching her forehead discreetly, “I have a better than average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But you... you never do what I expect. You always take me by surprise.”

I looked away, my eyes wandering back to her family, embarrassed and dissatisfied. Her words made me feel like a science experiment. I wanted to laugh at myself for expecting anything else.

“That part is easy enough to explain,” she continued. I felt her eyes on my face but I couldn’t look at her yet, afraid she might read the chagrin in my eyes.” But there’s more... and it’s not so easy to put into words-“

I was still staring at the Cullens while she spoke. Suddenly Rosalie, her blond breathtaking sister, turned to look at me. No, not to look- to glare, with dark, cold eyes. I wanted to look away, but her gaze held me until Edythe broke her off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under her breathe. It was almost a hiss.

Rosalie turned her head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Edythe- and I knew she could see the confusion and fear that widened my eyes.

Her face was tight as she explained. “I’m sorry about that. She’s just worried. You see... it’s dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you publicly...” She looked down.

“If?”

“If this ends... badly.” She dropped her head into her hands, as she had that night in Port Angeles. Her anguish was plain; I yearned to comfort her, but I was as a loss to know how. My hand reached toward her involuntary; quickly, though, I dropped it to the table, fearing that my touch would only make things worse. I realized slowly that her words should frighten me. I waited for that fear to come, but all I could seem to feel was an ache for her pain.

And frustration- frustration that Rosalie had interrupted whatever she was about to say. I didn’t know how to bring it up again. She still had her head in her hands.

I tried to speak in a normal voice. “And you have to leave now?”

“Yes,” She raised her face; it was serious for a moment, and then his mood shifted and she smiled. “It’s probably for the best. We still have fifteen minutes of that wretched movie left to endure in Biology- I don’t think I could take any more.”

I started. Alice- her short, inky hair in a halo of spiky disarray around her exquisite, elfin face- was suddenly standing behind her shoulder. Her slight frame was willowy, graceful even in absolute stillness.

She greeted her without looking away from me. “Alice.”

“Edythe,” She answered, her high soprano voice almost as attractive as hers.

“Alice, Bella- Bella, Alice,” she introduced us, gesturing casually with her hand, a wry smile on her face.

“Hello, Bella.” Her brilliant obsidian eyes were unreadable, but her smile was friendly. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Edythe flashed a dark look at her.

“Hi, Alice,” I murmured shyly.

“Are you ready?” She asked her.

Her voice was aloof. “Nearly. I’ll meet you at the car.”

She left without another word; her walk was so fluid, so sinuous that I felt a sharp pang of jealousy.

“Should I say ‘have fun’, or it that the wrong sentiment?” I asked, turning back to her.

“No, ‘have fun’ works as well as anything.” She grinned.

“Have fun, then.” I worked to sound wholehearted. Of course I didn’t fool her.

“I’ll try.” She still grinned. “And you try to be safe, please.”

“Safe in Forks- what a challenge.”

“For you it is a challenge.” Her jaw hardened. “Promise.”

“I promise to try to be safe,” I recited. “I’ll do the laundry tonight- that ought to be fraught with peril.”

“Don’t fall in,” she mocked.

“I‘ll do my best.” 

She stood then, and I rose, too.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I sighed.

“It seems like a long time to you, doesn’t it?” She mused.

I nodded glumly.

“I’ll be there in the morning,” she promised, and then she walked to my side, touched the back of my hand lightly, and turned to walk away. I stared after her until she was gone.

I really did not want to go to class, and I thought about a little healthy ditching, but decided it would be irresponsible. I knew that if I disappeared now, Mike and the others would assume I’d gone with Edythe. And Edythe was worried about the time we’d spent together publicly... if things went wrong. I wasn’t going to think about what that would mean, or how painful it might be. I just worked out the ways I could make things safer for her. Which meant going to class.

I felt certain- and I thought she did, too- that tomorrow would change everything for us. She and I... if we were going to be together, we had to face this square on. We couldn’t keep trying to balance on this precarious edge of almost-together. We would fall to one side or the other, and it all depended on her. I was all in, before I’d even consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing this through. Because there was nothing more terrifying to me, more painful, than the idea of never seeing her again.

It didn’t help my concentration so much that she wasn’t next to me in Biology. The tension and electricity were gone, but my mind was too wrapped around the idea of tomorrow to pay attention.

In gym, Mike seemed to have forgiven me. He said he hoped I had a good time in Seattle. I carefully explained that I’d canceled the trip due to truck issues.

He was suddenly sulky again. “Are you taking Edythe to the dance?”

“No. I told you I wasn’t going.”

“What are you doing, then?”

I lied cheerfully. “Laundry, and then I have to study for the Trig test or I’m going to fail.”

He frowned. “Is Edythe helping you ‘study’?”

I could hear the quotation marks he put around the last word.

“Don’t I wish,” I said, smiling. “She’s so much smarter than I am. But she’s gone away somewhere with her sister for the weekend.” It was funny how much easier than usual the lies were coming. Maybe because I was lying for someone else, and not for myself.

Mike perked up. “Oh. You know, you could still come to the dance with us all. That would be cool. We’d all dance with your,” he promised.

The mental image of of Jessica’s face made my tone sharper than necessary.

“I’m not going to the dance, Mike, okay?”

“Fine,” he snapped. “I was just offering.”

When Gym was finally over, I walked to the parking lot without enthusiasm. I wasn’t looking forward to walking home in the rain, but I couldn’t think of how she would have been able to get my truck. Then again, was anything impossible for her?

And there it was- parked in the same spot where she’d parked the Volvo this morning. I shook my head, amazed, as I opened the door and found the key in the ignition as promised.

There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed the door before I opened it. Two words were written in her fancy calligraphy handwriting.

Be safe.

The sound of the truck roaring to life startled me, and I laughed at myself.

When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the deadbolt unlocked, just as I’d left it this morning. Inside, I went straight to the laundry room. It looked just the same as I’d left it, too. I dug for my jeans, and after finding them, checked my pockets. Empty. Maybe I’d hung up my key after all, I thought, shaking my head.

Charlie was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I guessed, or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying his lasagna- it was hard to tell with Charlie.

“You know, Dad...,” I began, breaking into his reverie.

“What’s that, Bella?”

“I think you’re right about Seattle. I think I’ll wait until Jessica or someone else can go with me.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Oh, okay. So, do you want me to stay home?”

“No, Dad, don’t change your plans. I’ve got a hundred things to do... homework, laundry... I need to go to the library and the grocery store. I’ll be in and out all day... You go and have fun.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, Dad. Besides, the freezer is getting dangerously low on fish- we’re down to a two, maybe three years supply.”

He smiled. “You’re sure easy to live with, Bells.”

“I could say the same about you,” I said, laughing. The sound of my laughter was off, but he didn’t seem to notice. I felt so guilty for deceiving him that I almost took Edythe’s advice and told him where I would be. Almost.

As I worked on the mindless chore of folding laundry, I wondered if, with this lie, I was choosing Edythe over my own father- after all, I was protecting her and leaving him to face... exactly what, I wasn’t sure. But then I would pull her note out of my back pocket much more often than necessary to absorb the two small words she;d written. Would I just vanish? Would the police find some... piece of me? I knew I wasn’t able to process exactly how devastating that would be for him, that losing a child- even one he hadn’t seen much for the last decade- was a bigger tragedy than I was able to understand.

But if I told him I would be with Edythe, if I implicated her in whatever followed, how did that help Charlie? Would it make the loss more bearable if he had someone to blame? Or would it just put him in more danger? I remembered how Rosalie had glared at me today. I remembered Alice’s glittering black eyes, Embry’s arms, stronger than probably steal, and Jasper, who- for some reason I couldn’t define- was the most frightening of them all. Did I really want my father to know something that would make them feel threatened?

But a tiny voice in the back of my mind worried, wondering if it would hurt very much... if it ended badly.

I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I knew I was far too stressed to sleep, so I did something I’d never done before. I deliberately took unnecessary cold medicine- the kind that knocked me out for a good eight hours. I normally wouldn’t condone that type of behavior in myself, but tomorrow would be complicated enough without me being loopy from sleep deprivation on top of everything else. While I waited for the drugs to kick in, I listened to Phil’s CD again. The familiar screaming was oddly comforting, and somewhere in the middle of it, I drifted off.

I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly thanks to my gratuitous drug use. Though I was well rested, I slipped right back into the same hectic frenzy from the night before. I dressed in a rush,  
smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the tan sweater till it hung right over my jeans. I  
sneaked a swift look out the window to see that Charlie was already gone. A thin, cottony layer of  
clouds veiled the sky. They didn't look very lasting.

My hands were no match for the deadbolt at first, and it took me a second, but finally I threw the door open, and there she was.

I took a deep breath. All the nerves faded to nothing, and I was totally calm.

She wasn’t smiling at first- her face was serious, even wary. But then she looked me over and her expression lightened. She laughed. 

“Good morning,” she chuckled.

“What’s wrong?” I glanced down to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything important, like shoes, or pants.

“We match.” She laughed again.

We match." She laughed again. I realized she had a long, light tan sweater on, with a white collar showing underneath, and blue jeans. I laughed with her, hiding a secret twinge of regret — why did she have to look like a runway model when I couldn't?

I locked the door behind me while she walked to my truck. She waited by the passenger door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.

“You agreed to this,” I reminded her as I unlocked her door and opened it. 

She gave me a dark look as she climbed past me.

I got in my side and tried not to cringe as I revved the engine very loudly to life.

“Where to?” I asked.

“Put your seat belt on- I’m nervous already.”

I rolled my eyes but did what she asked. “Where to?” I repeated.

“Take the one-oh-one north.”

It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling her eyes on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping town.

“Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?”

“This truck is old enough to be the Volvo’s grandfather- have a little respect.”

We were soon out of the town limits, despite her pessimism. Thick underbrush and dense forest replaced the lawns and houses.

“Turn right on the one-ten,” she instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed silently.

“Now we drive until the pavement ends.”

I could hear a smile in her voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and proving her right to look over and be sure.

“And what’s there, at the pavement’s end? I wondered.

“A trail.”

“We’re hiking?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No.” I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if she thought my truck was slow...

“Don’t worry, it’s only five miles or so and we’re in no hurry.”

Five miles. I didn’t answer, so that she wouldn’t hear the panic in my voice. How far had I hiked last Saturday- a mile? And how many times had I managed to trip in that distance? This was going to be humiliating.

We drove in silence for a while. I was imagining what her expression would look like the twentieth time I face-planted.

“What are you thinking?” She asked impatiently after a few minutes.

I lied again. “Just wondering where we’re going.”

“It’s a place I like to go when the weather’s nice.” We both glanced out the windows at the thinning clouds.

“Charlie said it would be warm today.”

“And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?” She asked.

“Nope.”

“But you probably said something to Jessica about me driving you to Seattle,” she said thoughtfully.

“No, I didn’t.”

“No one knows you’re with me?” Angrily, now.

“That depends... I assume you told Alice?”

“That’s very helpful, Bella.” She snapped.

I pretended I didn’t hear that.

“Is it the weather? Seasonal affective disorder? Has Forks made you so depressed you’re actually suicidal?”

“You said it might cause problems for you... us being together publicly,” I explained.

“So you’re worried about the trouble it might cause me- if you don’t come home?” Her voice was a mix of ice and acid.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.

She muttered something under her breath, the words flowing so quickly that I couldn’t understand them.

It was silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of fury and disapproval rolling off her, and I couldn’t think of the right way to apologize when I wasn’t sorry.

The road ended at a small wooden marker. I could see the thin foot trail stretching away into the forest. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, not sure what to do because she was angry and I didn’t have driving as an excuse not to look at her anymore.

It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I’d arrived, almost muggy under the thin clouds. I yanked off the flannel and tossed it into the cab, glad I’d worn the T-shirt-especially with the five miles of hiking ahead of me.

I heard her door slam, and looked over to see that she’d removed her flannel too, and twisted her hair into another messy bun. All she had on was a thin tank top. She was facing away from me, staring into the forest, and I could see the delicate shape of her shoulder blades. Her arms were so thin; it was hard to believe they contained the strength that I knew was in them.

“This way,” she said, glancing over her should at me, still annoyed. She started walking into the dark forest directly to the east of the truck.

“The trail?” I asked, trying to hide the panic in my voice as I hurried around the front of the truck to catch up to her.

“I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it.”

“No trail? Really?”

“I won’t let you get lost.”

She turned then, with a mocking half-smile, and I couldn’t breathe.

I’d never seen so much of her skin. Her pale arms, her slim shoulders, the fragile-looking twigs of her collarbones, the vulnerable hollows above them, the swanlike column of her neck, the gentle swell of her breast- don’t stare, don’t stare. She was perfect, I realized with a crushing wave of despair. There was no way this goddess could ever belong with me.

She stared at me, shocked by my tortured expression.

“Do you want to go home?” she asked quietly, a different pain than mine saturating her voice.

“No.”

I walked forward till I was close beside her, anxious not to waste one second of the obviously numbered hours I had with her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her voice still soft.

“I’m not a fast hiker,” I answered dully. “You’ll have to be very patient.”

“I can be patient- if I make a great effort.” She smiled, holding my gaze, trying to pull me out of my suddenly glum mood.

I tried to smile back, but I could feel that smile was less than convincing. She searched my face.

“I’ll take you home,” she promised, but I couldn’t tell if the promise was unconditional, or restricted to an immediate departure. Obviously, she thought it was fear of my impending demise that had upset me, and I was glad that I was the one person whose mind she couldn’t hear.

“If you want me to hike five miles through the jungle before sundown, you’d better start leading the way,” I said bitterly. Her eyebrows pulled down as she tried to understand my tone and expression.

She gave up after a moment and led the way into the forest.

It wasn’t as hard as I’d been afraid it would be. The way was mostly flat, and she seemed content to go at my pace. I feared of tripping over roots and I seemed to be dogging them but barely, but each time her hand shot out just to make sure I was steady. I had never been graceful before in my life. There was no way I was hiking without a single injury even with Edythe's help which seemed like I actually didn't need. When she touched me, my heart thudded and stuttered like usual. I saw her expression the second time that happened, and I was suddenly sure she could hear it.

I tried to keep from looking at her; every time I did, her beauty filled me with the same sadness. Mostly we walked in silence. Occasionally, she would ask a random question that she hadn’t gotten to in the last two days of interrogation. She asked about birthdays, grade school teachers, childhood pets- and I had admit I tried not to let the fact mom was a afraid of dogs and cats and pretty much everything discourage me but it sucked a lot, and with fish after killing three in a row, I’d given up on the practice. She laughed at that, louder than usual, the bell-like echoes bouncing back to me from the trees. Then her eyes grew soft as she looked at me and talked about how awkward it would be for her to keep a pet when she hunted animals to begin with. I didn’t know how to respond to that.

The hike took me most of the morning, but she never seemed impatient. The forest spread out around us in a labyrinth of identical trees, and I started to get nervous that we wouldn’t be able to find our way out again. She was perfectly at ease in the green maze, never showing any doubt about our direction.

After several hours, the green light that filtered down through the canopy brightened into yellow. The day had turned sunny, just as promised. For the first time since we’d started, I felt excitement again.

“Are we there yet?” I asked.

She smiled at the change in mood. “Nearly. Do you see the clearer light ahead?”

I stared into the thick forest. “Um, should I?”

“Maybe it is a bit soon for your eyes.”

“Time to visit the optometrist.” I sighed and she grinned.

And then, after another hundred yards, I could definitely see a brighter spot in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow-white instead of yellow-green. I picked up the pace, and she let me lead now, following noiselessly.

I reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the most beautiful place I had ever seen.

The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers- violet, yellow, and white. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the liquid rush of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly forward through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. After that first minute of awe, I turned, wanting to share this with her, but she wasn’t behind me where I thought she’d be. I spun around, searching for her, suddenly anxious. Finally I found her, still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious eyes, and I remembered why we were here. The mystery of Edythe and the sun- which she’d promised to solve for me today. I took a step back, my hand stretched out toward her. Her eyes were wary, reluctant- oddly, it reminded me of stage fright. I smiled encouragingly and started walking back to her. She held up a warning hand and I stopped, rocking back onto my heels.

Edythe took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then stepped out into the bright glare of the midday sun.


	15. CONFESSIONS

Eyes closed, Edythe stepped blindly into the light.

My heart jumped into my throat and I started sprinting to her.

“Edythe!” 

It was only when her eyes flashed open and I got close enough to begin to understand what. I was seeing that I realized she hadn’t caught on fire. She threw up her hand again, palm forward, and I stumbled to a stop, almost falling to my knees.

The light blazed off her skin, danced in prism-like rainbows across her face and neck, down her arms. She was so bright that I had to squint, like I was trying to stare at the sun.

I thought about falling to my knees on purpose. This was the kind of beauty you worshiped. The kind you built temples for and offered sacrifices to. I wished I had something in my empty hands to give her, but what would a goddess want from a mediocre mortal like me?

It took me a while to see past her incandescence to the expression on her face. She was watching me with wide eyes- it almost looked like she was afraid of something. I took a step toward her, and she cringed just slightly.

“Does that hurt you?” I whispered.

“No,” she whispered back.

I took another step toward her- she was the magnet again, and I was just a helpless piece of dull metal. She let her warning hand drop to her side. As she moved, the fire shimmered down her arm. Slowly, I circled around her, keeping my distance, just needing to absorb this, to see her from every angle. The sun played off her skin, refracting and magnifying every color light could hold. My eyes were adjusting, and they opened wider with wonder.

I knew that she’d chosen her clothes with care, that she’d been determined to show me this, but the way she held herself now, shoulders tight, legs braced, made me wonder if she wasn’t second-guessing the decision now.

I finished my circle, then closed the last few feet between us. I couldn’t stop staring, even to blink.

“Edythe,” I breathed.

“Are you scared now?” She whispered.

“No.”

She started searchingly into my eyes, trying to hear what I was thinking.

I reached toward her, deliberately unhurried, watching her face for permission. Her eyes opened even wider, and she froze. Carefully, slowly, I let my fingertips graze the glistening skin on the back of her arm. I was surprised to find it was just as cold as ever. While my fingers were touching her, the reflections of the fire flickered against my skin, and suddenly my hand wasn’t mediocre anymore. She was so astonishing that she could make even me less ordinary.

“What are you thinking?” She whispered.

I struggled to find words. “I am... I didn’t know...” I took a deep breath, and the words finally came. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful- never imagined anything so beautiful could exist.”

Her eyes were still wary. Like she thought I was saying what I thought she wanted to hear. But it was only the truth, maybe the truest, most uncensored thing I’d ever said in my life. I was too overwhelmed to filter or pretend.

She started to lift her hand, then dropped it. The shimmer flared. “It’s very strange, though,” She murmured.

“Amazing,” I breathed.

“Aren’t you repulsed by my flagrant lack of humanity?”

I shook my head. “Not repulsed.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You should be.”

“I’m feeling like humanity is pretty overrated.”

She pulled her arm from under my fingertips and folded it behind her back. Rather than take her cue, I took a half-step closer to her. I could feel the reflected shine on my face.

And she was suddenly ten feet away from me, her warning hand up again and her jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I need some time,” she told me.

“I’ll be more careful.”

She nodded, then walked to the middle of the meadow, making a little arc when she passed me, keeping those ten feet always between us. She sat down with her back to me, the sunlight incandescent across her shoulder blades, reminding me of wings again. I walked slowly closer, and then sat down facing her when I was about five feet away.

“Is this alright?”

She nodded, but she didn’t look sure. “Just let me... concentrate.”

I sat, silent, and after a few seconds, she shut her eyes again. I was fine with that. Seeing her like this- it wasn’t something you could get tired of. I watched her, trying to understand the phenomenon, and she ignored me.

It was about a half hour later that suddenly she lay back on the grass with one hand behind her head. The grass was long enough to partially obscure my view.

“Can I...?” I asked.

She patted the ground beside her.

I moved a few feet closer, then another foot when she didn’t object. Another few inches.

Her eyes were still closed, lids glistening pale lavender over the dark fan of lashes. Her chest rose and fell evenly, almost like she was asleep, expect there was somehow a sense of effort and control to the motion. She seemed very aware of the process of breathing in and out.

I sat with my legs folded under me, my elbows on my knees and my chin on my hands. It was very warm- the sun felt strange on my skin now that I was so used to the rain- and the meadow was still lovely, but it was just background now. It didn’t stand out. I had a new definition of beauty.

Her lips moved, and the light glittered off them while they... almost trembled. I thought she might have spoken, but the words were too quiet, and too fast.

“Did you... say something?” I whispered. Sitting next to her like this, watching her shine, made me feel the need for quiet. For reverence, even.

“Just singing to myself,” she murmured. “It calms me.”

We didn’t move for a long time- expect for her lips, every now and then singing too low for me to hear. An hour might have passed, maybe more. Very gradually, the tension that I hadn’t totally processed at first drained quietly away, till everything was so peaceful that I was almost sleepy. Every time I shifted my weight, I would end up another half-inch nearer to her.

I leaned closer, studying her hand, trying to find the facets in her smooth skin. Without even thinking about it, I reached out with one finger to stroke the back of her hand, awed again by the satin-smooth texture, cool like stone. I felt her eyes on me and looked up, my finger frozen.

Her eyes were peaceful, and she was smiling.

“I still don’t scare you, do I?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

She smiled wider. Her teeth flashed in the sun.

I inched closer again, stretched out my whole hand to trace the shape of her forearm with my fingertips. I saw that my fingers were trembling. Her eyes closed again.

“Do you mind?” I asked.

“No. You can’t imagine how that feels.”

I lightly trailed my hand over the delicate structure of her arm, followed the faint pattern of bluish veins inside the crease at her elbow. I reached to turn her hand over, and when she realized what I wanted, she flipped her palm up in a movement so fast it didn’t exist. My fingers froze.

“Sorry,” she murmured, and then smiled because that was my line. Her eyes slid closed again. “It’s too easy to be myself with you.”

I lifted her hand, turning it this way and that as I watched the sun shimmer across her palm. I held it closer to my face, trying again to find the facets.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she whispered. She was watching me again, her eyes as light as I’d ever seen them. Pale honey. “It’s still so strange for me, not knowing.”

“The rest of us feel that way all the time, you know.”

“It’s a hard life,” she said, and there was a forlorn note in her tone. “But you didn’t tell me.”

“I was wishing I could know what you were thinking...”

“And?”

“I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. I’m afraid...”

“I don’t want you to be afraid.” Her voice was just a low murmur. We both heard what she hadn’t said- that I didn’t need to be afraid, that there was nothing to fear.

“That’s not the kind of fear I meant.”

So quickly that I missed the movement completely, she was half-sitting, propped up on her right arm, her left palm still in my hands. Her angel’s face was only a few inches from mine. I should have leaned away. I was supposed to be careful.

Her honey eyes burned.

“Then what are you afraid of?” She whispered.

I couldn’t answer. I smelled her sweet, cool breath in my face, like I had just the one time before. Unthinkingly, I leaned closer, inhaling.

And she was gone, her hand ripped from mine so fast that it stung. In the time it took my eyes to focus, she was twenty feet away, standing at the edge of the small meadow, deep in the shade of a huge fir tree. She stared at me, eyes dark in the shadows, her expression unreadable.

I could feel the shock on my face, and my hands burned.

“Edythe. I’m... sorry.” My voice was just a whisper, but I knew she could hear me.

“Give me a moment,” she called, just loud enough for my less sensitive ears.

I sat very still.

After ten very long seconds, she waked back, slowly for her. She stopped when she was still several feet away and sank gracefully to the ground, crossing her legs underneath her. Her eyes never left mine. She took two deep breaths, then smiled apologetically.

“I am so very sorry.” She hesitated. “Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?”

I nodded, not quite able to smile at her joke. Adrenaline pushed through my system as I realized what had almost happened. She could smell that from where she sat. Her smile turned mocking.

“I’m the world’s best predator, aren’t I? Everything about me invites you in- my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I needed any of that!”

Suddenly she was just a blur. I blinked and she’d vanished; then she was standing beneath the same tree as before, having circled the entire meadow in a fraction of a second.

“As if you could outrun me,” she said bitterly.

She leaped a dozen feet straight up, grabbing a two-foot-thick branch and wrenching it away from the trunk without any sign of effort. She was back on the ground in the same instant, balancing the huge, gnarled lance in one hand for just a second. Then with blinding speed she swung it- one-handed-like a bat at the tree she’d ripped it from.

With an explosive boom, both the branch and the tree shattered in half.

Before I even had time to shy away from the detonation, before the tree could even fall to the ground, she was right in front of me again, just two feet away, still as a sculpture.

“As it you could fight me off,” she said gently. Behind her the sound of the tree crashing to the earth echoed through the forest.

I’d never seen her so completely freed of her careful human facade. She’d never been less human... or more beautiful. I couldn’t move, like a bird trapped by the eyes of a snake.

Her eyes seemed to glow with excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. Her expression slowly folded into a mask of sadness. She looked like she was about to cry, and I struggled up to my knees, one hand reaching toward her.

She held out her hand, cautioning me. “Wait.”

I froze again.

She took one step toward me. “Don’t be afraid,” she murmured, and her velvet voice was unintentionally seductive. “I promise...” She hesitated. “I swear I will not hurt you.” She seemed like she was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince me.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” she whispered again as she stepped closer with exaggerated slowness. She stopped just a foot away and gently touched her hand to the one I still had stretched toward her. I wrapped mine around hers tightly.

“Please forgive me,” she said in a formal tone. “I can control myself. You caught me off guard. I’m on my best behavior now.”

She waited for me to respond, but I just knelt there in front of her, staring, my brain totally scrambled.

“I’m not thirsty today, honestly.” She winked.

That made me laugh, though my laugh sounded a little winded.

“Are you alright?” She asked, reaching out- slowly, carefully- to put her other hand on top of mine.

I looked at her smooth, marble hand, and then her eyes. They were soft, repentant, but I could see some of the sadness still in them. 

I smiled up at her so widely that my cheeks hurt. Her answering smile was dazzling.

With a deliberately unhurried, sinuous movement, she sank down, curling her legs beneath her. Awkwardly I copied her, still we were sitting facing each other, knees touching, our hands still wrapped together between us.

“So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?”

“I honestly have no idea?”

She smiled, but her face was ashamed. “I think we were talking about why you were afraid, besides the obvious reason.”

“Oh, right.”

“Well?”

I looked down at our hands, turning mine so that the light would glisten across hers.

“How easily frustrated I am,” she sighed.

I looked into her eyes, suddenly realizing that this was every bit as new to her as it was to me. However many years of experience she’d had before we’d met, this was hard for her, too. That made me braver.

“I was afraid... because for, well obvious reasons, I probably can’t stay with you, can I? And that’s what I want, much more than I should.”

“Yes,” she agreed slowly. “Being with me has never been in your best interest.”

I frowned.

“I should have left that first day and not come back. I should leave now.” She shook her head. “I might have been able to do it then. I don’t know how to do it now.”

“Don’t. “Please.”

Her face turned brittle. “Don’t worry. I’m essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company to much to do what I should.”

“Good!”

She glared, carefully extricating her hands from mine and then folding them across her chest. Her voice was harsher when she spoke again.

“You should never forget that it’s not only your company I crave. Never forget that I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else.” She started unseeingly into the forest. 

I thought for a moment.

“I don’t think I understand exactly what you mean by that last part.”

She looked back and smiled at me, her unpredictable mood shifting again.

“How do I explain? And without horrifying you?”

Without seeming to think about it, she placed her hand back in mine. I held it tightly. She looked at our hands.

“That’s amazingly pleasant, the warmth.”

A moment passed while she seemed to be arranging her thoughts.

“You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?” She began. “Some people love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?”

I nodded.

“I apologize for the food analogy- I couldn’t think of another way to explain.”

I grinned and she grinned back, but her smile was rueful.

“You see, every person has their own scent, their own essence... if you locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, she’d drink it. But she could resist, if she wished to, if she were a recovering alcoholic. Now let’s say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac-and filled the room with its warm aroma- how do you think our alcoholic would fare then?”

We sat in silence for a minute, staring into each other’s eyes, trying to read each other’s thoughts.

She broke the silence first.

“Maybe that’s not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy to turn down the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroin addict instead.”

“So what you’re saying is, I’m your brand of heroin?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

She smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. “Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin?”

“Does that happen often?” I asked.

She looked across the tree tops, thinking through her response.

“I spoke to my brothers about it.” She still stared into the distance. “To Jasper, every one of you is much the same. He’s the most recent to join the family. It’s a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn’t had time to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor.” She glanced swiftly at me. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Look, don’t worry about offending me, or horrifying me, or whatever. That’s the way you think. I can understand, or I can try to at least. Just explain it however it makes sense to you.”

She took a deep breath and stared past me.

“So Jasper wasn’t sure if she’d ever come across someone who was as” appealing as you are to me. Which makes me think not.” Her eyes flickered to me. “He would remember this.”

She looked away again. “Embry has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he understood what I meant. He says twice for him, once stronger than the other.”

“And you you?”

“Never before this.”  
We stared at each other again. This time I broke the silence.

“What did Embry do?”

It was the wrong question to ask. She cringed, and her face was suddenly tortured. I waited, but she didn’t add anything.

“Okay, so I guess that was a dumb question.”

She stared at me with eyes that pleaded for understanding. “Even the strongest of us all fall off the wagon, don’t we?”

“Are you... asking for my permission?” I whispered. A shiver rolled down my spine that had nothing to do with my freezing hands.

Her eyes flew wide in shock. “No!”

I knew it wan’t normal, facing death like this without any real sense of fear. It wasn’t that I was super brave, I knew that. It was just that I wouldn’t have chosen differently, even knowing it would end this way.

She looked angry again, but I didn’t think she was angry with me. “Of course there’s hope. Of course I won’t...” She left the sentence hanging. Her eyes felt like they were physically burning mine. “It’s different for us. Embry... these were strangers he happened to come across. It was a long time ago. He wasn’t as practiced, as careful as he is now. And he’s never been as good at this as I am.”

She fell silent, watching me intently as I thought it through.

“So if we’d met... oh, in a dark alley or something...”

“It took everything I had-every single year of practice and sacrifice and effort- not to jump up in the middle of that class full of children and-“ She broke off, her eyes darting away from me. “When you walked pass me, I could have ruined everything that Carlisle has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn’t been denying my thirst for the last, well, too many years, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.” He paused, scowling at the trees.

She glanced at me grimly, both of us remembering. “You must have thought I was possessed.”

“I couldn’t understand why. How you could hate me so quickly...”

“To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off of your skin... I thought it would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what I could do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the words that would make you follow...”

She looked up then at my staggered expression as I tried to absorb her bitter memories. Her golden eyes scorched from under her lashes, hypnotic and deadly.

“You would have come,” she promised.

I tried to speak calmly. “Without a doubt.”

She frowned down at my hands, releasing me from the force of her stare. “And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, you were there- in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there-so easily death with.”

I shivered in the warm sun, seeing my memories anew through her eyes, only now grasping the danger. Poor Ms. Cope; I shivered again at how close I’d come to being inadvertently responsible for her death.

“But I resisted. I don’t know how. I forced myself not to wait for you, not to follow you from the school. It was easier outside, when I couldn’t smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I left the others near home-I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very wrong-and then I went straight to Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving.”

I stared in surprise.

“I traded cares with him- he had a full tank of gas and I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t dare go home, to face Esme. She wouldn’t have let me go without a scene. She would have tried to convince me it wasn’t necessary...

“By the next morning I was in Alaska.” She sounded ashamed, as if admitting a great cowardice. “I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances... but I was homesick. I hated knowing I’d upset Esme, and the rest of them, my adopted family. In the pure air of the mountains it was hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it was weak to run away. I’d dealt with temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an insignificant little girl”- she grinned suddenly- “to chase me from the place I wanted to be? So I came back...” She stared off into space. 

I couldn’t speak.

“I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again. I was sure that I was strong enough to treat you like any other human. I was arrogant about it.

“It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn’t simply read your thoughts to know what your reaction was to me. I wasn’t used to having to go to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jessica’s mind... her mind isn’t very original, and it was annoying to have to stoop to that. And then I couldn’t know if you really meant what you said. It was all extremely irritating.” She frowned from the memory. 

“I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you like I would with any person. I was eager actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. But you were too interesting. I found myself caught up in your expressions... and every now and then you would stir the air with your hand or your hair, and the scent would stun me again...

“Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes. Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted in that moment- because if I hadn’t saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don’t think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was, ‘Not her.’”

She closed her eyes, lost in her agonized confession. I listened, more eager than rational. Common sense told me I should be terrified. Instead, I was relieved to finally understand. And I was filled with compassion for her suffering, even now, as she confessed her crazing to take my life.

I finally was able to speak, though my voice was faint. “In the hospital?”

Her eyes flashed up to mine. “I was appalled. I couldn’t believe I had put us in danger after all, put myself in your power- you of all people. As if I needed another motive to kill you.” We both flinched as that word slipped out. “But it had the opposite effect,” she continued quickly. “I fought with Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper when they suggested that now was the time... the worst fight we’ve ever had. Carlisle sided with me, and Alice.” She grimaced when she said her name. I couldn’t imagine why. “Esme told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay.” She shook her head indulgently.

“All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you kept your word. I didn’t understand you at all. But I knew that I couldn’t become more involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far from you as possible. And everyday the perfume of your skin, your breath, your hair... it hit me as hard as the very first day.”

She met my eyes again, and they were surprisingly tender.

“And for all that,” she continued, “I’d have fared better if I had exposed us all at that first moment, than if now, here- with no witnesses and nothing to stop me- I were to hurt you.”

I was human enough to have to ask. “Why?”

“Snow.” She pronounced my name carefully, then playfully ruffled my hair with her free hand. A shock ran through my body at her casual touch. “Snow, I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you. You don’t know how it’s tortured me.” She looked down, ashamed again. “The thought of you, still, white, cold... to never see you blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my pretenses... it would be unendurable.” She lifted her glorious, agonized eyes to mine. “You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever.”

My head was spinning at the rapid change in direction our conversation had taken. From the cheerful topic of my impending demise, we were suddenly declaring ourselves. She waited, and even though I looked down to study our hands between us, I knew her golden eyes were on mine.

“You already know how I feel, of course,” I finally said. “I’m here... which roughly translated, means I would rather die than stay away from you.” I frowned. “I’m an idiot.”

“You are an idiot,” she agreed with a laugh. Our eyes met, and I laughed, too. We laughed together at the idiocy and sheer impossibility of such a moment.

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb...,” she murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word.

“What a stupid lamb,” I sighed.

“What a sick, masochistic lion.” She stared into the shadowy forest for a long moment, and I wondered where his thoughts had taken him.

“Why...?” I began, and then she paused not sure how to continue.

She looked at me and smiled; sunlight glinted off her face, her teeth.

“Yes?”

“Tell me why you ran from me before.”

Her smile faded. “You know why?”

“No, I mean, exactly what did I do wrong? I’ll have to be on my guard, you see, so I better start learning what I shouldn’t do. This, for example”- I stroked the back of her hand- “seems to be all right.”

She smiled again. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Snow. It was my fault.”

“But I want to help, if I can, to not make this harder for you.”

“Well...” she contemplated for a moment. “It was just how close you were. Most humans instinctively shy away from us, are repelled by our alienness. ... I wasn’t expecting you to come so close. And the smell of your throat.” She stopped short, looking to see if she’d upset me.

“Okay, then,” I said flippantly, trying to alleviate the suddenly tense atmosphere. I tucked my chin. “No throat exposure.”

It worked; she laughed. “No, really, it was more the surprise than anything else.”

She raised her free hand and placed it gently on the side of my neck. I sat very still, the chill of her touch a natural warning- a warning telling me to be terrified. But there was no feeling of fear in me. There were, however, other feelings...

“You see,” she said. “Perfectly fine.”

My blood was racing, and I wished I could slow it, sensing that this must make everything so much more difficult- the thudding of my pulse in my veins. Surely she could hear it.

“The blush on your cheeks is lovely,” she murmured. She gently freed her other hand. My hands fell limply into my lap. Softly she brushed my cheek, then held my face between her marble hands.

“Be very still,” she whispered, as if I wasn’t already frozen.

Slowly, never moving her eyes from mine, she leaned toward me. Then abruptly, but very gently, she rested her cold cheek against the hollow at the base of my throat. I was quite unable to move, even if I’d wanted to. I listened to the sound of her even breathing, watching the sun and wind play in her bronze hair, more human than any other part of her.

With deliberate slowness, her hands slid down the sides of my neck. I shivered, and I heard her catch her breath. But her hands didn’t pause as they softly moved to my shoulders, and then stopped.

Her face drifted to the side, her nose skimming across my collarbone. She came to rest with the side of her face pressed tenderly against my chest.

Listening to my heart.

“Ah,” she sighed.

I don’t know how long we sat without moving. It could have been hours. Eventually the throb of my pulse quieted, but she didn’t move or speak again as she held me. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end- so quickly that I might not even notice. And I couldn’t make myself be afraid. I couldn’t think of anything, expect that she was touching me.

And then, too soon, she released me. 

Her eyes were peaceful.

“It won’t be so hard again,” she said with satisfaction.

“Was that very hard for you?”

“Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be. And you?”

“No, it wasn’t bad... for me.”

She smiled at my inflection. “You know what I mean.”  
I smiled.

“Here,” She took my hand and placed it against her cheek. “Do you feel how warm it is?”

And it was almost warm, her usually icy skin. But I barely noticed, for I was touching her face, something I’d dreamed of constantly since the first day I’d seen her.

“Don’t move,” I whispered.

No one could be still like Edythe. She closed her eyes and became as immobile as stone, a carving under my hand.

I moved even more slowly than she had, careful not to make one unexpected move. I stroked her cheek, let my fingertips graze across her lavender eyelids, the shadows in the hollows under her eyes. I traced the shape of her straight nose, and then, so carefully, her perfect lips. Her lips parted and I could feel her cool breath on my fingertips. I wanted to lean in, to inhale her scent, but I knew that might be too much. If she could control herself, so could I- if only on a much smaller scale.

I tried to move in a slow motion so that she could guess everything I would do before I did it. I let my palms slide down the sides of her slender neck, let them rest on her shoulders while my thumbs followed the impossibly fragile curve of her collarbones.

She was much stronger than I was, in so many way. I seemed to lose control of my hands as they skimmed over the points of her shoulders and down across her sharp shoulder blades. I couldn’t stop myself as my arms wrapped around her, pulling her against my chest again. My hands crossed behind her and wrapped around either side of her waist.

She leaned into me, but that was the only movement. She wasn’t breathing.

So that gave me a time limit.

I bent down to press my face into her hair for one long second, inhaling a deep lungful of her scent. Then I forced myself to peel my hands off her and move away. One of my hands wouldn’t obey completely; it trailed down her arm and settled on her wrist.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

She opened her eyes, and they were hungry. Not in the way to make me afraid, but in a way that made the muscles in the pit of my stomach tighten into knots and scent my pulse hammering through my veins again.

“I wish...,” she whispered, “I wish that you could feel the... complexity... the confusion... I feel. That you could understand.”

She raised her hand to my face, then ran her fingers quickly through my hair.

“Tell me,” I breathed.

“I don’t know if I can. You know, on the one hand, the hunger- the thirst- that, ending what I am, I feel for you. And I think you can understand that, to an extent. Though”- and she half smiled- “as you are not addicted to any illegal substances, you probably can’t empathize completely.

“But...” Her fingers touched my lips lightly, and my heart raced. “There are other things I want, other hungers. Hungers I don’t even understand myself.”

“I might understand that better than you think.”

“I’m not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?”

“For me?” I paused. “No, never. Never before this.”

She put her hands on both sides of my face. “I don’t know how to be close to you. I don’t know if I can.”

I put my hand over hers, then leaned forward slowly till my forehead was touching hers.

“This is enough,” I sighed, closing my eyes.

We sat like that for a moment, and then her fingers moved into my hair. She angled her face up and pressed her lips to my forehead. The rhythm of my pulse exploded into a jagged sprint.

“You’re a lot better at this than you give yourself credit for,” I said when I could speak again.

She leaned away, taking my hands again. “I was born with human instincts- they may be buried deep, but they exist.”

We stared at each other for another immeasurable moment; I wondered if she was as unwilling to move as I was. But the light was fading, the shadows of the trees almost touching us.

“You have to go.”

“I thought you couldn’t read my mind.”

She smiled. “It’s getting clearer.”

A sudden excitement flared in her eyes. “Can I show you something?”

“Anything.”

She grinned. “How about a faster way back to your truck?”

I looked at her warily.

“Don’t you want to see how I travel in the forest?” She pressed. “I promise it’s safe.”

“Will you... turn into a bat?”

She burst into laughter. “Like I haven’t heard that one before!”

“Right, I’m sure you get that all the time.”

She was on her feet in another invisibly fast motion. She offered me her hand, and I jumped up next to her. She whirled around and looked back at me over her shoulder.

“Climb on my back.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Don’t be a coward, Bella, I promise this won’t hurt.”

She stood there waiting with her back toward me, totally serious.

“Edythe, I don’t... I mean, how?”

She spun back to me, one eyebrow raised. “Surely you’re familiar with the concept of a piggyback ride?”

I shrugged. “Sure, but...”

“What the problem, then?”

“Well... you’re so small.”

She blew out an exasperated breath, then vanished. This time I felt the wind from her passage. A second later, she was back with a boulder in one hand.

An actual boulder. One that she must have ripped our of the ground, because the bottom half was covered in clinging dirt and spidery roots. It would be as high as her waist if she set it down. She tilted her head to one side.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you’re not strong enough-“

She flipped the boulder lightly over her shoulder, and it sailed well past the edge of the forest and then crashed down to earth with the sound of shattering wood and stone.

“Obviously,” I went on. “But I... How would I fit? I mean I'm taller than you.” I looked at my too-long legs and then back to her delicate frame.

She turned her back to me again. “Trust me.”

Feeling like the stupidest, most awkward person in all of history, I hesitantly put my arms around her neck.

“Come on,” she said impatiently. She reached back with one hand and grabbed my leg, yanking my knee up past her hip.

“Whoa!”

But she already had my other leg, and instead of toppling backward, she easily supported my weight. She moved my legs into position around her waist. My face was burning, and I knew I must look like a gorilla on a greyhound.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Please, Bella.”

Embarrassed as I was, I was also very aware that my arms and legs were wrapped tightly around her slender body.

Suddenly she grabbed my hand and pressed my palm to her face. She inhaled deeply.

“Easier all the time,” she said.

And then she was running.

For the first time, I felt actually fear for my life. Terror.

She streaked through the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that her feet ever touched the ground. Her breathing never changed, never indicated any effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by inches.

I was too shocked to close my eyes, though the cool air whipped against my face and burned them. It felt like I was sticking my head out the window of an airplane in flight.

Then it was over. We’d hiked hours this morning to reach Edythe’s meadow, and now, in a matter of minutes - not even minutes- seconds- we were back to the truck.

“Exhilarating, isn’t it?” Her voice was high, excited.

She stood motionless, waiting for me to unwind my legs and step away from her. I did try, but I couldn’t get my muscles to unfreeze. My arms and legs stayed locked while my head spun uncomfortably.

“Bella?” She asked, anxious now.

“I might need to lie down,” I gasped.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

It took me a few seconds to remember how to loosen my fingers. Then everything seemed to come undone at the same time, and I half-fell off her, stumbling backward until I lost my footing and finished the other half of the fall.

She held out her hand, trying not to laugh, but I refused her offer. Instead, I stayed down and put my head between my knees. My ears were ringing and my head whirled in queasy circles.


	16. MIND OVER MATTER

She could drive well, when she kept the speed reasonable, I had to admit. Like so many things, it seemed to be effortless to her. She barely looked at the road, yet the tires never deviated so much as a centimeter from the center of the lane. She drove one-handed, holding my hand on the seat.

Sometimes she gazed into the setting sun, sometimes she glanced at me — my face, my hair blowing out the open window, our hands twined together.

She had turned the radio to an oldies station, and she sang along with a song I'd never heard. She knew every line.

"You like fifties music?" I asked.

"Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or the seventies, ugh!" She shuddered.

"The eighties were bearable."

"Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?" I asked, tentative, not wanting to upset her buoyant humor.

"Does it matter much?" Her smile, to my relief, remained unclouded.

"No, but I still wonder…" I grimaced. "There's nothing like an unsolved mystery to keep you up at night."

"I wonder if it will upset you," she reflected to herself. She gazed into the sun; the minutes passed.

"Try me," I finally said.

She sighed, and then looked into my eyes, seeming to forget the road completely for a time. Whatever she saw there must have encouraged her. She looked into the sun — the light of the setting orb glittered off her skin in ruby-tinged sparkles — and spoke.

"I was born in Chicago in 1901." She paused and glanced at me from the corner of her eyes. My face was carefully unsurprised, patient for the rest. She smiled a tiny smile and continued. "Carlisle found me in a hospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of the Spanish influenza."

She heard my intake of breath, though it was barely audible to my own ears. She looked down into my eyes again.

"I don't remember it well — it was a very long time ago, and human memories fade." She was lost in his thoughts for a short time before he went on. "I do remember how it felt, when Carlisle saved me. It's not an easy thing, not something you could forget."

"Your parents?"

"They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why he chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I was gone."

"How did she… save you?"

A few seconds passed before she answered. She seemed to choose her words carefully.

"It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to accomplish it. But Carlisle has always been the most humane, the most compassionate of us… I don't think you could find his equal throughout all of history." She paused. "For me, it was merely very, very painful."

I could tell from the set of her lips, she would say no more on this subject. I suppressed my curiosity, though it was far from idle. There were many things I needed to think through on this particular issue, things that were only beginning to occur to me. No doubt her quick mind had already comprehended every aspect that eluded me.

Her soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "He acted from loneliness. That's usually the reason behind the choice. I was the first in Carlisle's family, though she found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff.

They brought her straight to the hospital morgue, though, somehow, her heart was still beating."

"So you must be dying, then, to become…" We never said the word, and I couldn't frame it now.

"No, that's just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who had another choice." The respect in his voice was profound whenever he spoke of his father figure. "It is easier he says, though," he continued, "if the blood is weak." He looked at the now-dark road, and I could feel the subject closing again.

"And Emmett and Rosalie?"

"Carlisle brought Rosalie to our family next. He thought I could use a sibing." She rolled her eyes.

"But she is a good sister I guess when she wants to be. We were just so different and the dynamic was weird I once thought. She was changed at a later year of her life. So I was only by years on Earth but she was in physical form. She's kind of like an annoying big sister. It was only two years later that she found Emmett. She was hunting — we were in Appalachia at the time — and found a bear about to finish him off. She carried him back to Carlisle, more than a hundred miles, afraid she wouldn't be able to do it herself. I'm only beginning to guess how difficult that journey was for her." She threw a pointed glance in my direction, and raised our hands, still folded together, to brush my cheek with the back of her hand.

"But she made it," I encouraged, looking away from the unbearable beauty of her eyes.

"Yes," she murmured. "She saw something in his face that made her strong enough. And they've been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we all enrolled in high school." She laughed. "I suppose we'll have to go to their wedding in a few years, again."

"Alice and Jasper?"

"Alice and Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed a conscience, as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Jasper belonged to another… family, a very different kind of family. He became depressed, and he wandered on his own. Alice found him. Like me, she has certain gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind."

"Really?" I interrupted, fascinated. "But you said you were the only one who could hear people's thoughts."

"That's true. She knows other things. She sees things — things that might happen, things that are coming. But it's very subjective. The future isn't set in stone. Things change."

Her jaw set when she said that, and her eyes darted to my face and away so quickly that I wasn't sure if I only imagined it.

"What kinds of things does she see?"

She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew it himself. She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find us. She's most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example, when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they may pose."

"Are there a lot of… your kind?" I was surprised. How many of them could walk among us undetected?

"No, not many. But most won't settle in any one place. Only those like us, who've given up hunting you people" — a sly glance in my direction — "can live together with humans for any length of time. We've only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live… differently tend to band together."

"And the others?"

"Nomads, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North."

"Why is that?"

We were parked in front of my house now, and she'd turned off the truck. It was very quiet and dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off so I knew my father wasn't home yet.

"Did you have your eyes open this afternoon?" she teased. "Do you think I could walk down the street in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? There's a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in the world. It's nice to be able to go outside in the day. You wouldn't believe how tired you can get of nighttime in eighty-odd years."

"So that's where the legends came from?"

"Probably."

"And Alice came from another family, like Jasper?"

"No, and that is a mystery. Alice doesn't remember her human life at all. And she doesn't know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. If she hadn't had that other sense, if she hadn't seen Jasper and Carlisle and known that she would someday become one of us, she probably would have turned into a total savage."

There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But, to my great embarrassment, my stomach growled. I'd been so intrigued, I hadn't even noticed I was hungry. I realized now that I was ravenous.

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from dinner."

"I'm fine, really."

"I've never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget. And I should know better by now your appetite."

"My appetite?"

"I mean I don't see food appealing so I don't get it. But you seem to enjoy food more than most other human I've seen. And have a very high metabolism."

I thought about that. It seemed to be more of a comfort thing since I arrived to Forks. I still need to get more clothes, but I don't seem to have much fat on me since then. It makes no sense.

"I want to stay with you." It was easier to say in the darkness, knowing as I spoke how my voice would betray me, my hopeless addiction to her.

"Can't I come in?" she asked.

"Would you like to?" I couldn't picture it, this godlike creature sitting in my father's shabby kitchen chair.

"Yes, if it's all right." I heard the door close quietly, and almost simultaneously she was outside my door, opening it for me.

"Very human," I complimented her.

"It's definitely resurfacing."

She walked beside me in the night, so quietly I had to peek at her constantly to be sure she was still there.

In the darkness he looked much more normal. Still pale, still dreamlike in her beauty, but no longer the fantastic sparkling creature of our sunlit afternoon.

She reached the door ahead of me and opened it for me. I paused halfway through the frame.

"The door was unlocked?"

"No, I used the key from under the eave."

I stepped inside, flicked on the porch light, and turned to look at her with my eyebrows raised. I was sure I'd never used that key in front of her.

"I was curious about you."

"You spied on me?" But somehow I couldn't infuse my voice with the proper outrage. I was flattered.

She was unrepentant. "What else is there to do at night?"

I let it go for the moment and went down the hall to the kitchen. She was there before me, needing no guide. She sat in the very chair I'd tried to picture her in. Her beauty lit up the kitchen. It was a moment before I could look away.

I concentrated on getting my dinner, taking last night's lasagna from the fridge, placing a square on a  
plate to heating it in the microwave. I then realizing how hungry I actually was decided to just put the rest of what was in the container on my plate. It revolved, filling the kitchen with the smell of tomatoes and oregano. I didn't take my eyes from the plate of food as I spoke.

"How often?" I asked casually.

"Hmmm?" She sounded as if I had pulled her from some other train of thought.

I still didn't turn around. "How often did you come here?"

"I come here almost every night."

I whirled, stunned. "Why?"

"You're interesting when you sleep." She spoke matter-of-factly. "You talk."

"No!" I gasped, heat flooding my face all the way to my hairline. I gripped the kitchen counter for support. I knew I talked in my sleep, of course; my mother teased me about it. I hadn't thought it was something I needed to worry about here, though.

Her expression shifted instantly to chagrin. "Are you very angry with me?"

"That depends!" I felt and sounded like I'd had the breath knocked out of me.

She waited.

"On?" she urged.

"What you heard!" I wailed.

Instantly, silently, she was at my side, taking my hands carefully in her.

"Don't be upset!" she pleaded. She dropped her face to the level of my eyes, holding my gaze. I wasembarrassed. I tried to look away.

"You miss your mother," she whispered. "You worry about her. And when it rains, the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it's less often now. Once you said, 'It's too green.'"

She laughed softly, hoping, I could see, not to offend me further.

"Anything else?" I demanded.

She knew what I was getting at. "You did say my name," she admitted.

I sighed in defeat. "A lot?"

"How much do you mean by 'a lot,' exactly?"

"Oh no!" I hung my head.

She pulled me against her chest, softly, naturally, and I thought I could feel her purr.

"Don't be self-conscious," she whispered in my ear. "If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I'm not ashamed of it."

Then we both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw the headlights flash through the front windows, down the hall to us. I stiffened in her arms.

"Should your father know I'm here?" she asked.

"I'm not sure…" I tried to think it through quickly.

"Another time then…"

And I was alone.

"Edythe!" I hissed.

I heard a ghostly chuckle, then nothing else.

My father's key turned in the door.

"Bella?" he called. It had bothered me before; who else would it be? Suddenly he didn't seem so far off base.

"In here." I hoped he couldn't hear the hysterical edge to my voice. I grabbed my dinner from the microwave and sat at the table as he walked in. His footsteps sounded so noisy after my day with  
Edythe.

"Can you get me some of that? I'm bushed." She stepped on the heels of his boots to take them off,  
holding the back of Edythe's chair for support. He saw my plate. "Hungry?" He laughed.

"Sorry," I blushed.

"It's okay I'll just make a sandwich." He smiled at me.

I scarfed down my dinner and it burned my tongue. I filled two glasses with milk while he made his sandwich, and gulped mine to put out the fire. As I set the glass down, I noticed the milk trembling and realized my hand was shaking. Charlie sat in the chair, and the contrast between him and its former occupant was comical.

"Thanks," he said as I placed his glass on the table.

"How was your day?" I asked. The words were rushed; I was dying to escape to my room.

"Good. The fish were biting… how about you? Did you get everything done that you wanted to?"

"Not really — it was too nice out to stay indoors." I took another big bite.

"It was a nice day," he agreed. What an understatement, I thought to myself. Finished with the last bite of lasagna, I lifted my glass and chugged the remains of my milk.  
Charlie surprised me by being observant. "In a hurry?"

"Yeah, I'm tired. I'm going to bed early."

"You look kinda keyed up," he noted. Why, oh why, did this have to be his night to pay attention?

"Do I?" was all I could manage in response. I quickly scrubbed my dishes clean in the sink, and placed them upside down on a dish towel to dry.

"It's Saturday," he mused.

I didn't respond.

"No plans tonight?" he asked suddenly.

"No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep."

"None of the boys in town your type, eh?" He was suspicious, but trying to play it cool.

"No, none of the boys have caught my eye yet." I was careful not to over-emphasize the word boys in my quest to be truthful with Charlie.

"I thought maybe that Mike Newton… you said he was friendly."

"He's just a friend, Dad."

"Well, you're too good for them all, anyway. Wait till you get to college to start looking." Every father's dream, that his daughter will be out of the house before the hormones kick in.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," I agreed as I headed up the stairs.

"'Night, honey," he called after me. No doubt he would be listening carefully all evening, waiting for me to try to sneak out.

"See you in the morning, Dad." See you creeping into my room tonight at midnight to check on me.

I worked to make my tread sound slow and tired as I walked up the stairs to my room. I shut the door loud enough for him to hear, and then sprinted on my tiptoes to the window. I threw it open and leaned out into the night. My eyes scanned the darkness, the impenetrable shadows of the trees. "Edythe?" I whispered, feeling completely idiotic.

The quiet, laughing response came from behind me. "Yes?"

I whirled, one hand flying to my throat in surprise.

She lay, smiling hugely, across my bed, her hands behind her head, the picture of ease.

"Oh!" I breathed, sinking unsteadily to the floor.

"I'm sorry." She pressed her lips together, trying to hide his amusement.

"Just give me a minute to restart my heart."

She sat up slowly, so as not to startle me again. Then she leaned forward and reached out with her arms to pick me up, gripping the tops of my arms like I was a toddler. She sat me on the bed beside her.

"Why don't you sit with me," she suggested, putting a cold hand on mine. "How's the heart?"

"You tell me — I'm sure you hear it better than I do."

I felt her quiet laughter shake the bed.

We sat there for a moment in silence, both listening to my heartbeat slow. I thought about having Edythe in my room, with my father in the house.

"Can I have a minute to be human?" I asked.

"Certainly." She gestured with one hand that I should proceed.

"Stay," I said, trying to look severe.

"Yes, ma'am." And she made a show of becoming a statue on the edge of my bed.

I hopped up, grabbing my pajamas from off the floor, my bag of toiletries off the desk. I left the light off and slipped out, closing the door.

I could hear the sound from the TV rising up the stairs. I banged the bathroom door loudly, so Charlie wouldn't come up to bother me.

I meant to hurry. I brushed my teeth fiercely, trying to be thorough and speedy, removing all traces of lasagna. But the hot water of the shower couldn't be rushed. It unknotted the muscles in my back, calmed my pulse. The familiar smell of my shampoo made me feel like I might be the same person I had been this morning. I tried not to think of Edythe, sitting in my room, waiting, because then I had to start all over with the calming process. Finally, I couldn't delay anymore. I shut off the water, toweling hastily, rushing again. I pulled on my holey t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Too late to regret not packing the Victoria's

Secret silk pajamas my mother got me two birthdays ago, which still had the tags on them in a drawer somewhere back home.

I rubbed the towel through my hair again, and then yanked the brush through it quickly. I threw the towel in the hamper, flung my brush and toothpaste into my bag. Then I dashed down the stairs so Charlie could see that I was in my pajamas, with wet hair.

"'Night, Dad."

"'Night, Bella." He did look startled by my appearance. Maybe that would keep him from checking on me tonight.

I took the stairs two at a time, trying to be quiet, and flew into my room, closing the door tightly behind  
me.

Edythe hadn't moved a fraction of an inch, a carving of goddess perched on my faded quilt. I smiled, and her lips twitched, the statue coming to life.

Her eyes appraised me, taking in the damp hair, the tattered shirt. She raised one eyebrow. "Nice."

I grimaced.

"No, it looks good on you."

"Thanks," I whispered. I went back to his side, sitting cross-legged beside her. I looked at the lines in the wooden floor.

"What was all that for?"

"Charlie thinks I'm sneaking out."

"Oh." She contemplated that. "Why?" As if she couldn't know Charlie's mind much more clearly than I could guess.

"Apparently, I look a little overexcited."

She lifted my chin, examining my face.

"You look very warm, actually."

She bent his face slowly to mine, laying her cool cheek against my skin. I held perfectly still.

"Mmmmmm…" she breathed.

It was very difficult, while he was touching me, to frame a coherent question. It took me a minute of scattered concentration to begin.

"It seems to be… much easier for you, now, to be close to me."

"Does it seem that way to you?" she murmured, her nose gliding to the corner of my jaw. I felt her hand, lighter than a moth's wing, brushing my damp hair back, so that her lips could touch the hollow beneath my ear.

"Much, much easier," I said, trying to exhale.

"Hmm."

"So I was wondering…" I began again, but her fingers were slowly tracing my collarbone, and I lost my train of thought.

"Yes?" she breathed.

"Why is that," my voice shook, embarrassing me, "do you think?"

I felt the tremor of her breath on my neck as she laughed. "Mind over matter."

I pulled back; as I moved, she froze — and I could no longer hear the sound of her breathing.

We stared cautiously at each other for a moment, and then, as her clenched jaw gradually relaxed, her expression became puzzled.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No — the opposite. You're driving me crazy," I explained.

She considered that briefly, and when she spoke, she sounded pleased. "Really?" A triumphant smile slowly lit her face.

"Would you like a round of applause?" I asked sarcastically.

She grinned.

"I'm just pleasantly surprised," she clarified. "In the last hundred years or so," her voice was teasing, "I never imagined anything like this. I didn't believe I would ever find someone I wanted to be with… in another way than my brothers and sisters. And then to find, even though it's all new to me, that I'm good at it… at being with you…"

"You're good at everything," I pointed out.

She shrugged, allowing that, and we both laughed in whispers.

"But how can it be so easy now?" I pressed. "This afternoon…"

"It's not easy," she sighed. "But this afternoon, I was still… undecided. I am sorry about that, it was unforgivable for me to behave so."

"Not unforgivable," I disagreed.

"Thank you." She smiled. "You see," she continued, looking down now, "I wasn't sure if I was strong enough…" She picked up one of my hands and pressed it lightly to her face. "And while there was still that possibility that I might be… overcome" — she breathed in the scent at my wrist — "I was… susceptible. Until I made up my mind that I was strong enough, that there was no possibility at all that I would… that I ever could…"

I'd never seen her struggle so hard for words. It was so… human.

"So there's no possibility now?"

"Mind over matter," she repeated, smiling, her teeth bright even in the darkness.

"Wow, that was easy," I said.

She threw back her head and laughed, quietly as a whisper, but still exuberantly.

"Easy for you!" she amended, touching my nose with her fingertip.

And then her face was abruptly serious.

"I'm trying," she whispered, her voice pained. "If it gets to be… too much, I'm fairly sure I'll be able to leave."

I scowled. I didn't like the talk of leaving.

"And it will be harder tomorrow," she continued. "I've had the scent of you in my head all day, and I've grown amazingly desensitized. If I'm away from you for any length of time, I'll have to start over again. Not quite from scratch, though, I think."

"Don't go away, then," I responded, unable to hide the longing in my voice.

"That suits me," she replied, her face relaxing into a gentle smile. "Bring on the shackles — I'm your prisoner." But her tiny hands formed manacles around my wrists as she spoke. She laughed her quiet, musical laugh. She'd laughed more tonight than I'd ever heard in all the time I'd spent with her.

"You seem more… optimistic than usual," I observed. "I haven't seen you like this before."

"Isn't it supposed to be like this?" She smiled. "The glory of first love, and all that. It's incredible, isn't it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it?"

"Very different," I agreed. "More forceful than I'd imagined."

"For example" — her words flowed swiftly now, I had to concentrate to catch it all — "the emotion of jealousy. I've read about it a hundred thousand times, seen actors portray it in a thousand different plays and movies. I believed I understood that one pretty clearly. But it shocked me…" She grimaced.

"Do you remember the day that Mike asked you to the dance?"

I nodded, though I remembered that day for a different reason. "The day you started talking to me again."

"I was surprised by the flare of resentment, almost fury, that I felt — I didn't recognize what it was at first. I was even more aggravated than usual that I couldn't know what you were thinking, why you refused him. Was it simply for your friend's sake? Was there someone else? I knew I had no right to care either way. I tried not to care.

"And then the line started forming," she chuckled. I scowled in the darkness.

"I waited, unreasonably anxious to hear what you would say to them, to watch your expressions. I couldn't deny the relief I felt, watching the annoyance on your face. But I couldn't be sure.

"That was the first night I came here. I wrestled all night, while watching you sleep, with the chasm between what I knew was right, moral, ethical, and what I wanted. I knew that if I continued to ignore you as I should, or if I left for a few years, till you were gone, that someday you would say yes to Mike, or someone like him. It made me angry.

"And then," she whispered, "as you were sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly, at first I thought you'd woken. But you rolled over restlessly and mumbled my name once more, and sighed.

The feeling that coursed through me then was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn't ignore you any longer." She was silent for a moment, probably listening to the suddenly uneven pounding of my heart.

"But jealousy… it's a strange thing. So much more powerful than I would have thought. And irrational!

Just now, when Charlie asked you about that vile Mike Newton…" He shook his head angrily.

"I should have known you'd be listening," I groaned.

"That made you feel jealous, though, really?"

"I'm new at this; you're resurrecting the human in me, and everything feels stronger because it's fresh."

"But honestly," I teased, "There's no competition. Someone like you could get anyone you want."

"There's no competition." Her teeth gleamed repeating what I said. She drew my trapped hands around her back, holding me to her chest. I kept as still as I could, even breathing with caution.

"I know there's no competition," I mumbled into her cold skin. "That's the problem."

"Of course no one could ever hold one tenth, no, one hundredth of the attraction you hold for me."

She was serious now, thoughtful. "For almost ninety years I've walked among my kind, and yours… all the time thinking I was complete in myself, not realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because you weren't alive yet."

"It hardly seems fair," I whispered, my face still resting on her chest, listening to her breath come and go. "I haven't had to wait at all. Why should I get off so easily?"

"You're right," she agreed with amusement. "I should make this harder for you, definitely." She freed one of her hands, released my wrist, only to gather it carefully into her other hand. She stroked my wet hair softly, from the top of my head to my waist. "You only have to risk your life every second you spend with me, that's surely not much. You only have to turn your back on nature, on humanity… what's that worth?"

"Very little — I don't feel deprived of anything."

"Not yet." And her voice was abruptly full of ancient grief.

I tried to pull back, to look in her face, but her hand locked my wrists in an unbreakable hold.

"What —" I started to ask, when her body became alert. I froze, but she suddenly released my hands, and disappeared. I narrowly avoided falling on my face.

"Lie down!" she hissed. I couldn't tell where she spoke from in the darkness.

I rolled under my quilt, balling up on my side, the way I usually slept. I heard the door crack open, as Charlie peeked in to make sure I was where I was supposed to be. I breathed evenly, exaggerating the movement.

A long minute passed. I listened, not sure if I'd heard the door close. Then Edythe's cool arm was around me, under the covers, her lips at my ear.

"You are a terrible actress — I'd say that career path is out for you."

"Darn it," I muttered. My heart was crashing in my chest.

She hummed a melody I didn't recognize; it sounded like a lullaby.

She paused. "Should I sing you to sleep?"

"Right," I laughed. "Like I could sleep with you here!"

"You do it all the time," she reminded me.

"But I didn't know you were here," I replied icily.

"So if you don't want to sleep…" she suggested, ignoring my tone. My breath caught.

"If I don't want to sleep… ?"

She chuckled. "What do you want to do then?"

I couldn't answer at first.

"I'm not sure," I finally said.

"Tell me when you decide."

I could feel her cool breath on my neck, feel her nose sliding along my jaw, inhaling.

"I thought you were desensitized."

"Just because I'm resisting the wine doesn't mean I can't appreciate the bouquet," she whispered. "You have a very floral smell, like lavender… or freesia," she noted. "It's mouthwatering."

"Yeah, it's an off day when I don't get somebody telling me how edible I smell."

She chuckled, and then sighed.

"I've decided what I want to do," I told her. "I want to hear more about you."

"Ask me anything."

I sifted through my questions for the most vital. "Why do you do it?" I said. "I still don't understand how you can work so hard to resist what you… are. Please don't misunderstand, of course I'm glad that you do. I just don't see why you would bother in the first place."

She hesitated before answering. "That's a good question, and you are not the first one to ask it. The others — the majority of our kind who are quite content with our lot — they, too, wonder at how we live. But you see, just because we've been… dealt a certain hand… it doesn't mean that we can't choose to rise above — to conquer the boundaries of a destiny that none of us wanted. To try to retain whatever essential humanity we can."

I lay unmoving, locked in awed silence.

"Did you fall asleep?" she whispered after a few minutes.

"No."

"Is that all you were curious about?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not quite."

"What else do you want to know?"

"Why can you read minds — why only you? And Alice, seeing the future… why does that happen?"

I felt her shrug in the darkness. "We don't really know. Carlisle has a theory… he believes that we all bring something of our strongest human traits with us into the next life, where they are intensified — like our minds, and our senses. He thinks that I must have already been very sensitive to the thoughts of those around me. And that Alice had some precognition, wherever she was."

"What did he bring into the next life, and the others?"

"Carlisle brought his compassion. Esme brought her ability to love passionately. Emmett brought his strength, Rosalie her… tenacity. Or you could call it pigheadedness." he chuckled. "Jasper is very interesting. He was quite charismatic in his first life, able to influence those around him to see things his way. Now he is able to manipulate the emotions of those around him — calm down a room of angry people, for example, or excite a lethargic crowd, conversely. It's a very subtle gift."

I considered the impossibilities she described, trying to take it in. She waited patiently while I thought. "So where did it all start? I mean, Carlisle changed you, and then someone must have changed him, and so on…"

"Well, where did you come from? Evolution? Creation? Couldn't we have evolved in the same way as other species, predator and prey? Or, if you don't believe that all this world could have just happened on its own, which is hard for me to accept myself, is it so hard to believe that the same force that created the delicate angelfish with the shark, the baby seal and the killer whale, could create both our kinds together?"

"Let me get this straight — I'm the baby seal, right?"

"Right." She laughed, and something touched my hair — her lips?

I wanted to turn toward her, to see if it was really her lips against my hair. But I had to be good; I didn't want to make this any harder for her than it already was.

"Are you ready to sleep?" she asked, interrupting the short silence. "Or do you have any more questions?"

"Only a million or two."

"We have tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…" she reminded me. I smiled, euphoric at the thought.

"Are you sure you won't vanish in the morning?" I wanted this to be certain. "You are mythical, after all."

"I won't leave you." Her voice had the seal of a promise in it.

"One more, then, tonight…" And I blushed. The darkness was no help — I'm sure she could feel the sudden warmth under my skin.

"What is it?"

"No, forget it. I changed my mind."

"Bella, you can ask me anything."

I didn't answer, and she groaned.

"I keep thinking it will get less frustrating, not hearing your thoughts. But it just gets worse and worse."

"I'm glad you can't read my thoughts. It's bad enough that you eavesdrop on my sleep-talking."

"Please?" Her voice was so persuasive, so impossible to resist.

I shook my head.

"If you don't tell me, I'll just assume it's something much worse than it is," she threatened darkly.

"Please?"

Again, that pleading voice.

"Well," I began, glad that she couldn't see my face.

"Yes?"

"You said that Rosalie and Emmett will get married soon… Is that… marriage… the same as it is for humans?"

She laughed in earnest now, understanding. "Is that what you're getting at?"

I fidgeted, unable to answer.

"Yes, I suppose it is much the same," she said. "I told you, most of those human desires are there, just hidden behind more powerful desires."

"Oh," was all I could say.

"Was there a purpose behind your curiosity?"

"Well, I did wonder… about you and me… someday…"

She was instantly serious, I could tell by the sudden stillness of her body. I froze, too, reacting automatically.

"I don't think that… that… would be possible for us."

"Because it would be too hard for you, if I were that… close?"

"That's certainly a problem. But that's not what I was thinking of. It's just that you are so soft, so fragile. I have to mind my actions every moment that we're together so that I don't hurt you. I could kill you quite easily, Bella, simply by accident." Her voice had become just a soft murmur. She moved her icy palm to rest it against my cheek. "If I was too hasty… if for one second I wasn't paying enough attention, I could reach out, meaning to touch your face, and crush your skull by mistake. You don't realize how incredibly breakable you are. I can never, never afford to lose any kind of control when I'm with you."

She waited for me to respond, growing anxious when I didn't. "Are you scared?" she asked.

I waited for a minute to answer, so the words would be true. "No. I'm fine."

She seemed to deliberate for a moment. "I'm curious now, though," she said, his voice light again. "Have you ever… ?" She trailed off suggestively.

"Of course not." I flushed. "I told you I've never felt like this about anyone before, not even close."

"I know. It's just that I know other people's thoughts. I know love and lust don't always keep the same company."

"They do for me. Now, anyway, that they exist for me at all," I sighed.

"That's nice. We have that one thing in common, at least." She sounded satisfied.

"Your human instincts…" I began. She waited. "Well, do you find me attractive, in that way, at all?"

She laughed and lightly rumpled my nearly dry hair.

"I may not be a human, but I am a woman," she assured me.

I yawned involuntarily.

"I've answered your questions, now you should sleep," she insisted.

"I'm not sure if I can."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" I said too loudly.

She laughed, and then began to hum that same, unfamiliar lullaby; the voice of an archangel, soft in my ear.

More tired than I realized, exhausted from the long day of mental and emotional stress like I'd never felt before, I drifted to sleep in her cold arms.


	17. THE CULLENS

The muted light of yet another cloudy day eventually woke me. I lay with my arm across my eyes, groggy and dazed. Something, a dream trying to be remembered, struggled to break into my consciousness. I moaned and rolled on my side, hoping more sleep would come. And then the previous day flooded back into my awareness.

"Oh!" I sat up so fast it made my head spin.

"Your hair looks like a haystack… but I like it." Her unruffled voice came from the rocking chair in the corner.

"Edythe! You stayed!" I rejoiced, and thoughtlessly threw myself across the room and into her lap. In the instant that my thoughts caught up with my actions, I froze, shocked by my own uncontrolled enthusiasm.

I stared up at her, afraid that I had crossed the wrong line.

But she laughed.

"Of course," she answered, startled, but seeming pleased by my reaction. Her hands rubbed my back.

I laid my head cautiously against her shoulder, breathing in the smell of her skin.

"I was sure it was a dream."

"You're not that creative," she scoffed.

"Charlie!" I remembered, thoughtlessly jumping up again and heading to the door.

"He left an hour ago — after reattaching your battery cables, I might add. I have to admit I was disappointed. Is that really all it would take to stop you, if you were determined to go?"

I deliberated where I stood, wanting to return to her badly, but afraid I might have morning breath.

"You're not usually this confused in the morning," she noted. She held her arms open for me to return. A nearly irresistible invitation.

"I need another human minute," I admitted.

"I'll wait."

I skipped to the bathroom, my emotions unrecognizable. I didn't know myself, inside or out. The face in the mirror was practically a stranger — eyes too bright, hectic spots of red across my cheekbones.

After I brushed my teeth, I worked to straighten out the tangled chaos that was my hair. I splashed my face with cold water, and tried to breathe normally, with no noticeable success. I half-ran back to my room.

It seemed like a miracle that she was there, her arms still waiting for me. She reached out to me, and my heart thumped unsteadily.

"Welcome back," she murmured, taking me into her arms.

She rocked me for a while in silence, until I noticed that her clothes were changed, her hair smoothed out and properly brushed.

"You left?" I accused, touching the collar of her fresh shirt.

"I could hardly leave in the clothes I came in — what would the neighbors think?"

I pouted.

"You were very deeply asleep; I didn't miss anything." Her eyes gleamed. "The talking came earlier."

I groaned. "What did you hear?"

Her gold eyes grew very soft. "You said you loved me."

"You knew that already," I reminded her, ducking my head.

"It was nice to hear, just the same."

I hid my face against her shoulder.

"I love you," I whispered.

"You are my life now," she answered simply.

There was nothing more to say for the moment. She rocked us back and forth as the room grew lighter.

"Breakfast time," she said eventually, casually — to prove, I'm sure, that she remembered all my human frailties.

So I clutched my throat with both hands and stared at her with wide eyes. Shock crossed her face.

"Kidding!" I snickered. "And you said I couldn't act!"

She frowned in disgust. "That wasn't funny."

"It was very funny, and you know it." But I examined her gold eyes carefully, to make sure that I was forgiven. Apparently, I was.

"Shall I rephrase?" she asked. "Breakfast time for the human."

"Oh, okay."

She threw me over hers stone shoulder, gently, but with a swiftness that left me breathless. I protested as she carried me easily down the stairs, but she ignored me. She sat me right side up on a chair.

The kitchen was bright, happy, seeming to absorb my mood.

"What's for breakfast?" I asked pleasantly.

That threw her for a minute.

"Er, I'm not sure. What would you like?" Her marble brow puckered.

I grinned, hopping up.

"That's all right, I fend for myself pretty well. Watch me hunt."

I found a bowl and a box of cereal. I could feel her eyes on me as I poured the milk and grabbed a spoon. I sat my food on the table, and then paused.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked, not wanting to be rude.

She rolled her eyes. "Just eat, Bella."

I sat at the table, watching her as I took a bite. She was gazing at me, studying my every movement. It made me self-conscious. I cleared my mouth to speak, to distract her.

"What's on the agenda for today?" I asked.

"Hmmm…" I watched her frame her answer carefully. "What would you say to meeting my family?"

I gulped.

"Are you afraid now?" She sounded hopeful.

"Yes," I admitted; how could I deny it — she could see my eyes.

"Don't worry." She smirked. "I'll protect you."

"I'm not afraid of them," I explained. "I'm afraid they won't… like me. Won't they be, well, surprised that you would bring someone… like me… home to meet them? Do they know that I know about them?"

"Oh, they already know everything. They'd taken bets yesterday, you know" — she smiled, but her voice was harsh — "on whether I'd bring you back, though why anyone would bet against Alice, I can't imagine. At any rate, we don't have secrets in the family. It's not really feasible, what with my mind reading and Alice seeing the future and all that."

"And Jasper making you feel all warm and fuzzy about spilling your guts, don't forget that."

"You paid attention," she smiled approvingly.

"I've been known to do that every now and then." I grimaced. "So did Alice see me coming?"

Her reaction was strange. "Something like that," she said uncomfortably, turning away so I couldn't see her eyes. I stared at her curiously.

"Is that any good?" she asked, turning back to me abruptly and eyeing my breakfast with a teasing look on her face. "Honestly, it doesn't look very appetizing."

"Well, it's no irritable grizzly…" I murmured, ignoring her when she glowered as I started on my second bowl of cereal shrugging it off. I was still wondering why she responded that way when I mentioned Alice. I hurried through my cereal, speculating.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, the statue of a goddess again, staring abstractedly out the back windows.

Then her eyes were back on me, and she smiled her heartbreaking smile.

"And you should introduce me to your father, too, I think."

"He already knows you," I reminded her.

"As your girlfriend, I mean."

I stared at her with suspicion. "Why?"

"Isn't that customary?" she asked innocently.

"I don't know," I admitted. My dating history gave me few reference points to work with. Not that any normal rules of dating applied here. "That's not necessary, you know. I don't expect you to… I mean, you don't have to pretend for me."

Her smile was patient. "I'm not pretending."

I pushed the remains of my cereal around the edges of the bowl, biting my lip.

"Are you going to tell Charlie I'm your girlfriend or not?" she demanded.

"Is that what you are?" I suppressed my internal cringing at the thought of Edythe and Charlie and the word girlfriend all in the same room at the same time.

"It's a loose interpretation of the word 'girl,' I'll admit."

"I was under the impression that you were something more, actually," I confessed, looking at the table.

"Well, I don't know if we need to give him all the gory details." She reached across the table to lift my chin with a cold, gentle finger. "But he will need some explanation for why I'm around here so much. I don't want Chief Swan getting a restraining order put on me."

"Will you be?" I asked, suddenly anxious. "Will you really be here?"

"As long as you want me," she assured me.

"I'll always want you," I warned her. "Forever."

She walked slowly around the table, and, pausing a few feet away, she reached out to touch her fingertips to my cheek. Her expression was unfathomable.

"Does that make you sad?" I asked.

She didn't answer. She stared into my eyes for an immeasurable period of time.

"Are you finished?" she finally asked.

I jumped up. "Yes."

"Get dressed — I'll wait here."

It was hard to decide what to wear. I doubted there were any etiquette books detailing how to dress when your vampire sweetheart takes you home to meet her vampire family. It was a relief to think the word to myself. I knew I shied away from it intentionally.

I ended up in my only skirt — long, khaki-colored, still casual. I put on the dark blue blouse she'd once complimented. A quick glance in the mirror told me my hair was entirely impossible, so I pulled it back into a pony tail.

"Okay." I bounced down the stairs. "I'm decent."

She was waiting at the foot of the stairs, closer than I'd thought, and I bounded right into her. She steadied me, holding me a careful distance away for a few seconds before suddenly pulling me closer.

"Wrong again," she murmured in my ear. "You are utterly indecent — no one should look so tempting, it's not fair."

"Tempting how?" I asked. "I can change…"

She sighed, shaking her head. "You are so absurd." She pressed her cool lips delicately to my forehead, and the room spun. The smell of her breath made it impossible to think.

"Shall I explain how you are tempting me?" she said. It was clearly a rhetorical question. Her fingers traced slowly down my spine, her breath coming more quickly against my skin. My hands were limp on her chest, and I felt lightheaded again. She tilted her head slowly and touched her cool lips to mine for the second time, very carefully, parting them slightly.

And then I collapsed.

"Bella?" Her voice was alarmed as she caught me and held me up.

"You… made… me… faint," I accused her dizzily.

"What am I going to do with you?" she groaned in exasperation. "Yesterday I kiss you, and you attack me! Today you pass out on me!"

I laughed weakly, letting her arms support me while my head spun.

"So much for being good at everything," she sighed.

"That's the problem." I was still dizzy. "You're too good. Far, far too good."

"Do you feel sick?" she asked; she'd seen me like this before.

"No — that wasn't the same kind of fainting at all. I don't know what happened." I shook my head apologeticallv, "I think I forgot to breathe."

"I can't take you anywhere like this."

"I'm fine," I insisted. "Your family is going to think I'm insane anyway, what's the difference?"

She measured my expression for a moment. "I'm very partial to that color with your skin," she offered unexpectedly. I flushed with pleasure, and looked away.

"Look, I'm trying really hard not to think about what I'm about to do, so can we go already?" I asked.

"And you're worried, not because you're headed to meet a houseful of vampires, but because you think those vampires won't approve of you, correct?"

"That's right," I answered immediately, hiding my surprise at her casual use of the word. She shook her head. "You're incredible."

I realized, as she drove my truck out of the main part of town, that I had no idea where she lived. We passed over the bridge at the Calawah River, the road winding northward, the houses flashing past us growing farther apart, getting bigger. And then we were past the other houses altogether, driving through misty forest. I was trying to decide whether to ask or be patient, when she turned abruptly onto an unpaved road. It was unmarked, barely visible among the ferns. The forest encroached on both sides, leaving the road ahead only discernible for a few meters as it twisted, serpentlike, around the ancient trees.

And then, after a few miles, there was some thinning of the woods, and we were suddenly in a small meadow, or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of the forest didn't relent, though, for there were six primordial cedars that shaded an entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. The trees held their protecting shadow right up to the walls of the house that rose among them, making obsolete the deep porch that wrapped around the first story.

I don't know what I had expected, but it definitely wasn't this. The house was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular and well proportioned. The windows and doors were either part of the original structure or a perfect restoration.

My truck was the only car in sight. I could hear the river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest.

"Wow."

"You like it?" She smiled.

"It… has a certain charm."

She pulled the end of my ponytail and chuckled.

"Ready?" she asked, opening my door.

"Not even a little bit — let's go." I tried to laugh, but it seemed to get stuck in my throat. I smoothed my hair nervously.

"You look lovely." She took my hand easily, without thinking about it.

We walked through the deep shade up to the porch. I knew she could feel my tension; her thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of my hand.

She opened the door for me.

The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior. It was very bright, very open, and very large. This must have originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white.

Waiting to greet us, standing just to the left of the door, on a raised portion of the floor by a spectacular rand piano, were Edythe's parents.

I'd seen Dr. Cullen before, of course, yet I couldn't help but be struck again by his youth, his outrageous perfection. At his side was Esme, I assumed, the only one of the family I'd never seen before. She had the same pale, beautiful features as the rest of them. Something about her heart-shaped face, her billows of soft, caramel-colored hair, reminded me of the ingénues of the silent-movie era. She was small, slender, yet less angular, more rounded than the others. They were both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside of the house. They smiled in welcome, but made no move to approach us. Trying not to frighten me, I guessed.

"Carlisle, Esme," Edythe's voice broke the short silence, "this is Bella."

"You're very welcome, Bella." Carlisle's step was measured, careful as he approached me. He raised his hand tentatively, and I stepped forward to shake hands with him.

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen."

"Please, call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle." I grinned at him, my sudden confidence surprising me. I could feel Edythe's relief at my side.

Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for my hand. Her cold, stone grasp was just as I expected.

"It's very nice to know you," she said sincerely.

"Thank you. I'm glad to meet you, too." And I was. It was like meeting a fairy tale — Snow White, in the flesh.

"Where are Alice and Jasper?" Edythe asked, but no one answered, as they had just appeared at the top of the wide staircase.

"Hey, Edythe!" Alice called enthusiastically. She ran down the stairs, a streak of black hair and white skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop in front of me. Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at her, but I liked it. It was natural — for her, anyway.

"Hi, Bella!" Alice said, and she bounced forward to kiss my cheek. If Carlisle and Esme had looked cautious before, they now looked staggered. There was shock in my eyes, too, but I was also very  
pleased that she seemed to approve of me so entirely. I was startled to feel Edythe stiffen at my side. I glanced at her face, but her expression was unreadable.

"You do smell nice, I never noticed before," she commented, to my extreme embarrassment.

No one else seemed to know quite what to say, and then Jasper was there — tall and leonine. A feeling of ease spread through me, and I was suddenly comfortable despite where I was. Edythe stared at Jasper, raising one eyebrow, and I remembered what Jasper could do.

"Hello, Bella," Jasper said. He kept his distance, not offering to shake my hand. But it was impossible to feel awkward near him.

"Hello, Jasper." I smiled at him shyly, and then at the others. "It's nice to meet you all — you have a very beautiful home," I added conventionally.

"Thank you," Esme said. "We're so glad that you came." She spoke with feeling, and I realized that she thought I was brave.

I also realized that Rosalie and Emmett were nowhere to be seen, and I remembered Edythe's too-innocent denial when I'd asked her if the others didn't like me.

Carlisle's expression distracted me from this train of thought; he was gazing meaningfully at Edythe with an intense expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edythe nod once.

I looked away, trying to be polite. My eyes wandered again to the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. I suddenly remembered my childhood fantasy that, should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my mother. She wasn't really good — she only played for herself on our secondhand upright — but I loved to watch her play. She was happy, absorbed — she seemed like a new, mysterious being to me then, someone outside the "mom" persona I took for granted. She'd put me through lessons, of course, but like most kids, I whined until she let me quit.  
Esme noticed my preoccupation.

"Do you play?" she asked, inclining her head toward the piano.

I shook my head. "Not at all. But it's so beautiful. Is it yours?"

"No," she laughed. "Edythe didn't tell you she was musical?"

"No." I glared at her suddenly innocent expression with narrowed eyes. "I should have known, I guess."

Esme raised her delicate eyebrows in confusion.

"Edythe can do everything, right?" I explained.

Jasper snickered and Esme gave Edward a reproving look.

"I hope you haven't been showing off— it's rude," she scolded.

"Just a bit," she laughed freely. Her face softened at the sound, and they shared a brief look that I didn't understand, though Esme's face seemed almost smug.

"She's been too modest, actually," I corrected.

"Well, play for her," Esme encouraged.

"You just said showing off was rude," she objected.

"There are exceptions to every rule," she replied.

"I'd like to hear you play," I volunteered.

"It's settled then." Esme pushed her toward the piano. She pulled me along, sitting me on the bench beside her.

She gave me a long, exasperated look before she turned to the keys.

And then her fingers flowed swiftly across the ivory, and the room was filled with a composition so complex, so luxuriant, it was impossible to believe only one set of hands played. I felt my chin drop, my mouth open in astonishment, and heard low chuckles behind me at my reaction.

Edythe looked at me casually, the music still surging around us without a break, and winked. "Do you like it?"

"You wrote this?" I gasped, understanding.

She nodded. "It's Esme's favorite."

I closed my eyes, shaking my head.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm feeling extremely insignificant."

The music slowed, transforming into something softer, and to my surprise I detected the melody of her lullaby weaving through the profusion of notes.

"You inspired this one," she said softly. The music grew unbearably sweet.

I couldn't speak.

"They like you, you know," she said conversationally. "Esme especially."

I glanced behind me, but the huge room was empty now.

"Where did they go?"

"Very subtly giving us some privacy, I suppose."

I sighed. "They like me. But Rosalie and Emmett…" I trailed off, not sure how to express my doubts.

She frowned. "Don't worry about Rosalie," she said, her eyes wide and persuasive. "She'll come around."

I pursed my lips skeptically. "Emmett?"

"Well, he thinks I'm a lunatic, it's true, but he doesn't have a problem with you. He's trying to reason with Rosalie."

"What is it that upsets her?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.

She sighed deeply. "Rosalie struggles the most with… with what we are. It's hard for her to have someone on the outside know the truth. And she's a little jealous."

"Rosalie is jealous of me?" I asked incredulously. I tried to imagine a universe in which someone as breathtaking as Rosalie would have any possible reason to feel jealous of someone like me.

"You're human." She shrugged. "She wishes that she were, too."

"Oh," I muttered, still stunned. "Even Jasper, though…"

"That's really my fault," she said. "I told you he was the most recent to try our way of life. I warned him to keep his distance."

I thought about the reason for that, and shuddered.

"Esme and Carlisle… ?" I continued quickly, to keep her from noticing.

"Are happy to see me happy. Actually, Esme wouldn't care if you had a third eye and webbed feet. All this time she's been worried about me, afraid that there was something missing from my essential makeup, that I was too young when Carlisle changed me… She's ecstatic. Every time I touch you, she just about chokes with satisfaction."

"Alice seems very… enthusiastic."

"Alice has her own way of looking at things," she said through tight lips.

"And you're not going to explain that, are you?"

A moment of wordless communication passed between us. She realized that I knew she was keeping something from me. I realized that she wasn't going to give anything away. Not now.  
"So what was Carlisle telling you before?"

Her eyebrows pulled together. "You noticed that, did you?"

I shrugged. "Of course."

She looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. "He wanted to tell me some news — he didn't know if it was something I would share with you."

"Will you?"

"I have to, because I'm going to be a little… overbearingly protective over the next few days — or weeks — and I wouldn't want you to think I'm naturally a tyrant."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious."

"Visitors?"

"Yes… well, they aren't like us, of course — in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they're gone."

I shivered.

"Finally, a rational response!" she murmured. "I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all."

I let that one pass, looking away, my eyes wandering again around the spacious room.

She followed my gaze. "Not what you expected, is it?" she asked, her voice smug.

"No," I admitted.

"No coffins, no piled skulls in the corners; I don't even think we have cobwebs… what a disappointment this must be for you," she continued slyly.

I ignored her teasing. "It's so light… so open."

She was more serious when she answered. "It's the one place we never have to hide."

The song she was still playing, my song, drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a more melancholy key. The last note hovered poignantly in the silence.

"Thank you," I murmured. I realized there were tears in my eyes. I dabbed at them, embarrassed.

She touched the corner of my eye, trapping one I missed. She lifted her finger, examining the drop of moisture broodingly. Then, so quickly I couldn't be positive that she really did, she put her finger to her mouth to taste it.

I looked at her questioningly, and she gazed back for a long moment before she finally smiled.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

"No coffins?" I verified, the sarcasm in my voice not entirely masking the slight but genuine anxiety I felt.

She laughed, taking my hand, leading me away from the piano.

"No coffins," she promised.

We walked up the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the satin-smooth rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs was paneled with a honey-colored wood, the same as the floorboards.

"Rosalie and Emmett's room… Carlisle's office… Alice's room…" She gestured as she led me past the doors.

She would have continued, but I stopped dead at the end of the hall, staring incredulously at the ornament hanging on the wall above my head. Edythe chuckled at my bewildered expression.

"You can laugh," she said. "It is sort of ironic."

I didn't laugh. My hand raised automatically, one finger extended as if to touch the large wooden cross, its dark patina contrasting with the lighter tone of the wall. I didn't touch it, though I was curious if the aged wood would feel as silky as it looked. "It must be very old," I guessed.

She shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less."

I looked away from the cross to stare at her.

"Why do you keep this here?" I wondered.

"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father."

"He collected antiques?" I suggested doubtfully.

"No. He carved this himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached."

I wasn't sure if my face betrayed my shock, but I returned to gazing at the simple, ancient cross, just in case. I quickly did the mental math; the cross was over three hundred and seventy years old. The silence stretched on as I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept of so many years.

"Are you all right?" She sounded worried.

"How old is Carlisle?" I asked quietly, ignoring her question, still staring up.

"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," Edythe said. I looked back at her, a million questions in my eyes.

She watched me carefully as she spoke.

"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though."

I kept my face composed, aware of her scrutiny as I listened. It was easier if I didn't try to believe.

"He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves… and vampires." I grew very still at the word. I'm sure she noticed, but she went on without pausing.

"They burned a lot of innocent people — of course the real creatures that he sought were not so easy to catch.

"When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of the raids. At first Carlisle was a disappointment; he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist. But he was persistent, and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of the city, only coming out by night to hunt. In those days, when monsters were not just myths and legends, that was the way many lived.

"The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course" — her brief laugh was darker now — "and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."

Her voice was very quiet; I strained to catch the words.

"He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle — he was twenty-three and very fast — was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving Carlisle He paused. I could sense he was editing something, keeping something from me.

"Carlisle knew what his father would do. The bodies would be burned — anything infected by the monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted instinctively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He hid in a cellar, buried himself in rotting potatoes for three days. It's a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered.

"It was over then, and he realized what he had become."

I'm not sure what my face was revealing, but she suddenly broke off.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I assured her. And, though I bit my lip in hesitation, she must have seen the curiosity burning in my eyes.

She smiled. "I expect you have a few more questions for me."

"A few."

Her smile widened over her brilliant teeth. She started back down the hall, pulling me along by the hand.

"Come on, then," she encouraged. "I'll show you."


	18. CARLISLE

She led me back to the room that she'd pointed out as Carlisle's office. She paused outside the door for an instant.

"Come in," Carlisle's voice invited.

Edythe opened the door to a high-ceilinged room with tall, west-facing windows. The walls were paneled again, in a darker wood — where they were visible. Most of the wall space was taken up by towering bookshelves that reached high above my head and held more books than I'd ever seen outside a library.

Carlisle sat behind a huge mahogany desk in a leather chair. She was just placing a bookmark in the pages of the thick volume she held. The room was how I'd always imagined a college dean's would look — only Carlisle looked too young to fit the part.

"What can I do for you?" he asked us pleasantly, rising from his seat.

"I wanted to show Bella some of our history," Edythe said. "Well, your history, actually."

"We didn't mean to disturb you," I apologized.

"Not at all. Where are you going to start?"

"The Waggoner," Edythe replied, placing one hand lightly on my shoulder and spinning me around to look back toward the door we'd just come through. Every time she touched me, in even the most casual way, my heart had an audible reaction. It was more embarrassing with Carlisle there.

The wall we faced now was different from the others. Instead of bookshelves, this wall was crowded with framed pictures of all sizes, some in vibrant colors, others dull monochromes. I searched for some logic, some binding motif the collection had in common, but I found nothing in my hasty examination.

Edythe pulled me toward the far left side, standing me in front of a small square oil painting in a plain wooden frame. This one did not stand out among the bigger and brighter pieces; painted in varying tones of sepia, it depicted a miniature city full of steeply slanted roofs, with thin spires atop a few scattered towers. A wide river filled the foreground, crossed by a bridge covered with structures that looked like tiny cathedrals.

"London in the sixteen-fifties," Edythe said.

"The London of my youth," Carlisle added, from a few feet behind us. I flinched; I hadn't heard him approach. Edythe squeezed my hand.

"Will you tell the story?" Edythe asked. I twisted a little to see Carlisle's reaction.

He met my glance and smiled. "I would," he replied. "But I'm actually running a bit late. The hospital called this morning — Dr. Snow is taking a sick day. Besides, you know the stories as well as I do," he added, grinning at Edythe now.

It was a strange combination to absorb — the everyday concerns of the town doctor stuck in the middle of a discussion of his early days in seventeenth-century London.

It was also unsettling to know that he spoke aloud only for my benefit.

After another warm smile for me, Carlisle left the room.

I stared at the little picture of Carlisle's hometown for a long moment.

"What happened then?" I finally asked, staring up at Edythe, who was watching me. "When he realized what had happened to him?"

She glanced back to the paintings, and I looked to see which image caught her interest now. It was a larger landscape in dull fall colors — an empty, shadowed meadow in a forest, with a craggy peak in the distance.

"When he knew what he had become," Edythe said quietly, "he rebelled against it. He tried to destroy himself. But that's not easily done."

"How?" I didn't mean to say it aloud, but the word broke through my shock.

"He jumped from great heights," Edythe told me, her voice impassive. "He tried to drown himself in the ocean… but he was young to the new life, and very strong. It is amazing that he was able to resist… feeding… while he was still so new. The instinct is more powerful then, it takes over everything. But he was so repelled by himself that he had the strength to try to kill himself with starvation."

"Is that possible?" My voice was faint.

"No, there are very few ways we can be killed."

I opened my mouth to ask, but she spoke before I could.

"So he grew very hungry, and eventually weak. He strayed as far as he could from the human populace, recognizing that his willpower was weakening, too. For months he wandered by night, seeking the loneliest places, loathing himself.

"One night, a herd of deer passed his hiding place. He was so wild with thirst that he attacked without a thought. His strength returned and he realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared. Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months his new philosophy was born. He could exist without being a demon. He found himself again.

"He began to make better use of his time. He'd always been intelligent, eager to learn. Now he had unlimited time before him. He studied by night, planned by day. He swam to France and —"

"He swam to France?"

"People swim the Channel all the time, Bella," she reminded me patiently.

"That's true, I guess. It just sounded funny in that context. Go on."

"Swimming is easy for us —"

"Everything is easy for you," I griped.

She waited, her expression amused.

"I won't interrupt again, I promise."

She chuckled darkly, and finished her sentence. "Because, technically, we don't need to breathe."

"You —"

"No, no, you promised." She laughed, putting her cold finger lightly to my lips. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"You can't spring something like that on me, and then expect me not to say anything," I mumbled against her finger.

She lifted her hand, moving it to rest against my neck. The speed of my heart reacted to that, but I persisted.

"You don't have to breathe?" I demanded.

"No, it's not necessary. Just a habit." She shrugged.

"How long can you go… without breathing?"

"Indefinitely, I suppose; I don't know. It gets a bit uncomfortable — being without a sense of smell."

"A bit uncomfortable," I echoed.

I wasn't paying attention to my own expression, but something in it made her grow somber. Her hand dropped to her side and she stood very still, her eyes intent on my face. The silence lengthened. Her features were immobile as stone.

"What is it?" I whispered, touching her frozen face.

Her face softened under my hand, and she sighed. "I keep waiting for it to happen."

"For what to happen?"

"I know that at some point, something I tell you or something you see is going to be too much. And then you'll run away from me, screaming as you go." She smiled half a smile, but her eyes were serious. "I won't stop you. I want this to happen, because I want you to be safe. And yet, I want to be with you. The two desires are impossible to reconcile…" She trailed off, staring at my face.

Waiting.

"I'm not running anywhere," I promised.

"We'll see," she said, smiling again.

I frowned at her. "So, go on — Carlisle was swimming to France."

She paused, getting back into her story. Reflexively, her eyes flickered to another picture — the most colorful of them all, the most ornately framed, and the largest; it was twice as wide as the door it hung next to. The canvas overflowed with bright figures in swirling robes, writhing around long pillars and off marbled balconies. I couldn't tell if it represented Greek mythology, or if the characters floating in the clouds above were meant to be biblical.

"Carlisle swam to France, and continued on through Europe, to the universities there. By night he studied music, science, medicine — and found his calling, his penance, in that, in saving human lives." Her expression became awed, almost reverent. "I can't adequately describe the struggle; it took Carlisle two centuries of torturous effort to perfect his self-control. Now he is all but immune to the scent of human blood, and he is able to do the work he loves without agony. He finds a great deal of peace there, at the hospital…" Edythe stared off into space for a long moment. Suddenly she seemed to recall her purpose.

She tapped her finger against the huge painting in front of us.

"He was studying in Italy when he discovered the others there. They were much more civilized and educated than the wraiths of the London sewers."

She touched a comparatively sedate quartet of figures painted on the highest balcony, looking down calmly on the mayhem below them. I examined the grouping carefully and realized, with a startled laugh, that I recognized the golden-haired man.

"Solimena was greatly inspired by Carlisle's friends. He often painted them as gods," Edythe chuckled.

"Aro, Marcus, Caius," she said, indicating the other three, two black-haired, one snowy-white.

"Nighttime patrons of the arts."

"What happened to them?" I wondered aloud, my fingertip hovering a centimeter from the figures on the canvas.

"They're still there." She shrugged. "As they have been for who knows how many millennia. Carlisle stayed with them only for a short time, just a few decades. He greatly admired their civility, their refinement, but they persisted in trying to cure his aversion to 'his natural food source,' as they called it. They tried to persuade him, and he tried to persuade them, to no avail. At that point, Carlisle decided to try the New World. He dreamed of finding others like himself. He was very lonely, you see.

"He didn't find anyone for a long time. But, as monsters became the stuff of fairy tales, he found he could interact with unsuspecting humans as if he were one of them. He began practicing medicine. But the companionship he craved evaded him; he couldn't risk familiarity.

"When the influenza epidemic hit, he was working nights in a hospital in Chicago. He'd been turning over an idea in his mind for several years, and he had almost decided to act — since he couldn't find a companion, he would create one. He wasn't absolutely sure how his own transformation had occurred, so he was hesitant. And he was loath to steal anyone's life the way his had been stolen. It was in that frame of mind that he found me. There was no hope for me; I was left in a ward with the dying. He had nursed my parents, and knew I was alone. He decided to try…"

Her voice, nearly a whisper now, trailed off. She stared unseeingly through the west windows. I wondered which images filled her mind now, Carlisle's memories or her own. I waited quietly.

When she turned back to me, a gentle angel's smile lit her expression.

"And so we've come full circle," she concluded.

"Have you always stayed with Carlisle, then?" I wondered.

"Almost always." She put her hand lightly on my waist and pulled me with her as she walked through the door. I stared back at the wall of pictures, wondering if I would ever get to hear the other stories.

Edythe didn't say any more as we walked down the hall, so I asked, "Almost?"

She sighed, seeming reluctant to answer. "Well, I had a typical bout of rebellious adolescence — about ten years after I was… born… created, whatever you want to call it. I wasn't sold on his life of abstinence, and I resented him for curbing my appetite. So I went off on my own for a time."

"Really?" I was intrigued, rather than frightened, as I perhaps should have been.

She could tell. I vaguely realized that we were headed up the next flight of stairs, but I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings.

"That doesn't repulse you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I guess… it sounds reasonable."

She barked a laugh, more loudly than before. We were at the top of the stairs now, in another paneled hallway.

"From the time of my new birth," she murmured, "I had the advantage of knowing what everyone around me was thinking, both human and non-human alike. That's why it took me ten years to defy Carlisle — I could read his perfect sincerity, understand exactly why he lived the way he did.

"It took me only a few years to return to Carlisle and recommit to his vision. I thought I would be exempt from the… depression… that accompanies a conscience. Because I knew the thoughts of my prey, I could pass over the innocent and pursue only the evil. If I followed a murderer down a dark alley where he stalked a young girl — if I saved her, then surely I wasn't so terrible."

I shivered, imagining only too clearly what she described — the alley at night, the frightened girl, the dark man behind her. And Edythe, Edythe as she hunted, terrible and glorious as a young goddess, unstoppable.

Would she have been grateful, that girl, or more frightened than before?

"But as time went on, I began to see the monster in my eyes. I couldn't escape the debt of so much human life taken, no matter how justified. And I went back to Carlisle and Esme. They welcomed me back like the prodigal. It was more than I deserved."

We'd come to a stop in front of the last door in the hall.

"My room," she informed me, opening it and pulling me through.

Her room faced south, with a wall-sized window like the great room below. The whole back side of the house must be glass. Her view looked down on the winding Sol Duc River, across the untouched forest to the Olympic Mountain range. The mountains were much closer than I would have believed.

The western wall was completely covered with shelf after shelf of CDs. Her room was better stocked than a music store. In the corner was a sophisticated-looking sound system, the kind I was afraid to touch because I'd be sure to break something. There was no bed, only a wide and inviting black leather sofa. The floor was covered with a thick golden carpet, and the walls were hung with heavy fabric in a slightly darker shade.

"Good acoustics?" I guessed.

She chuckled and nodded.

She picked up a remote and turned the stereo on. It was quiet, but the soft jazz number sounded like the band was in the room with us. I went to look at her mind-boggling music collection.

"How do you have these organized?" I asked, unable to find any rhyme or reason to the titles.

She wasn't paying attention.

"Ummm, by year, and then by personal preference within that frame," she said absently.

I turned, and she was looking at me with a peculiar expression in her eyes.

"What?"

"I was prepared to feel… relieved. Having you know about everything, not needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn't expect to feel more than that. I like it. It makes me… happy." She shrugged, smiling slightly.

"I'm glad," I said, smiling back. I'd worried that she might regret telling me these things. It was good to know that wasn't the case.

But then, as her eyes dissected my expression, her smile faded and her forehead creased.

"You're still waiting for the running and the screaming, aren't you?" I guessed.

A faint smile touched her lips, and she nodded.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but you're really not as scary as you think you are. I don't find you scary at all, actually," I lied casually.

She stopped, raising her eyebrows in blatant disbelief. Then she flashed a wide, wicked smile.

"You really shouldn't have said that," she chuckled.

She growled, a low sound in the back of her throat; her lips curled back over her perfect teeth. Her body shifted suddenly, half-crouched, tensed like a lion about to pounce.

I backed away from her, glaring.

"You wouldn't."

I didn't see her leap at me — it was much too fast. I only found myself suddenly airborne, and then we crashed onto the sofa, knocking it into the wall. All the while, her arms formed an iron cage of protection around me — I was barely jostled. But I still was gasping as I tried to right myself.

She wasn't having that. She curled me into a ball against her chest, holding me more securely than iron chains. I glared at her in alarm, but she seemed well in control, her jaw relaxed as she grinned, her eyes bright only with humor.

"You were saying?" she growled playfully almost sounding like a purr.

"That you are a very, very terrifying monster," I said, my sarcasm marred a bit by my breathless voice.

"Much better," she approved.

"Um." I struggled. "Can I get up now?"

She just laughed.

"Can we come in?" a soft voice sounded from the hall.

I struggled to free myself, but Edythe merely readjusted me so that I was somewhat more conventionally seated on her lap. I could see it was Alice, then, and Jasper behind her in the doorway. My cheeks burned, but Edythe seemed at ease.

"Go ahead." Edythe was still chuckling quietly.

Alice seemed to find nothing unusual in our embrace; she walked — almost danced, her movements were so graceful — to the center of the room, where she folded herself sinuously onto the floor. Jasper, however, paused at the door, his expression a trifle shocked. He stared at Edythe's face, and I wondered if he was tasting the atmosphere with his unusual sensitivity.

"It sounded like you were having Bella for lunch, and we came to see if you would share," Alice announced.

I stiffened for an instant, until I realized Edythe was grinning — whether at her comment or my response, sI couldn't tell.

"Sorry, I don't believe I have enough to spare," she replied, her arms holding me recklessly close.

"Actually," Jasper said, smiling despite himself as he walked into the room, "Alice says there's going to be a real storm tonight, and Emmett wants to play ball. Are you game?"

The words were all common enough, but the context confused me. I gathered that Alice was a bit more reliable than the weatherman, though.

Edythe's eyes lit up, but she hesitated.

"Of course you should bring Bella," Alice chirped. I thought I saw Jasper throw a quick glance at her.

"Do you want to go?" Edythe asked me, excited, her expression vivid.

"Sure." I couldn't disappoint such a face. "Um, where are we going?"

"We have to wait for thunder to play ball — you'll see why," she promised.

"Will I need an umbrella?"

They all three laughed aloud.

"Will she?" Jasper asked Alice.

"No." She was positive. "The storm will hit over town. It should be dry enough in the clearing."

"Good, then." The enthusiasm in Jasper's voice was catching, naturally. I found myself eager, rather than scared stiff.

"Let's go see if Carlisle will come." Alice bounded up and to the door in a fashion that would break any ballerina's heart.

"Like you don't know," Jasper teased, and they were swiftly on their way. Jasper managed to inconspicuously close the door behind them.

"What will we be playing?" I demanded.

"You will be watching," Edythe clarified. "We will be playing baseball."

I rolled my eyes. "Vampires like baseball?"

"It's the American pastime," she said with mock solemnity.


	19. THE GAME

It was just beginning to drizzle when Edythe turned onto my street. Up until that moment, I'd had no doubt that she'd be staying with me while I spent a few interim hours in the real world.

And then I saw the black car, a weathered Ford, parked in Charlie's driveway — and heard Edythe mutter something unintelligible in a low, harsh voice.

Leaning away from the rain under the shallow front porch, Julie Black stood behind her father's  
wheelchair. Billy's face was impassive as stone as Edythe parked my truck against the curb. Julie  
stared down, her expression mortified.

Edythe's low voice was furious. "This is crossing the line."

"He came to warn Charlie?" I guessed, more horrified than angry.

Edythe just nodded, answering Billy's gaze through the rain with narrowed eyes.

I felt weak with relief that Charlie wasn't home yet.

"Let me deal with this," I suggested. Edythe's black glare made me anxious.

To my surprise, she agreed. "That's probably best. Be careful, though. The child has no idea."

I bridled a little at the word child. "Julie is not that much younger than I am," I reminded her.

She looked at me then, her anger abruptly fading. "Oh, I know," she assured me with a grin.

I sighed and put my hand on the door handle.

"Get them inside," she instructed, "so I can leave. I'll be back around dusk."

"Do you want my truck?" I offered, meanwhile wondering how I would explain its absence to Charlie.

She rolled his eyes. "I could walk home faster than this truck moves."

"You don't have to leave," I said wistfully.

She smiled at my glum expression. "Actually, I do. After you get rid of them" — she threw a dark glance in the Blacks' direction — "you still have to prepare Charlie to meet your new girlfriend." She grinned widely, showing all of her teeth.

I groaned. "Thanks a lot."

She smiled the dimpled smile that I loved. "I'll be back soon," she promised. Her eyes flickered back to the porch, and then she leaned in to swiftly kiss me just under the edge of my jaw. My heart lurched frantically, and I, too, glanced toward the porch. Billy's face was no longer impassive, and his hands  
clutched at the armrests of his chair.

"Soon," I stressed as I opened the door and stepped out into the rain.

I could feel her eyes on my back as I half-ran through the light sprinkle toward the porch.

"Hey, Billy. Hi, Julie." I greeted them as cheerfully as I could manage. "Charlie's gone for the day — I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Not long," Billy said in a subdued tone. His black eyes were piercing. "I just wanted to bring this up."

He indicated a brown paper sack resting in his lap.

"Thanks," I said, though I had no idea what it could be. "Why don't you come in for a minute and dry off?"

I pretended to be oblivious to his intense scrutiny as I unlocked the door, and waved them in ahead of me.

"Here, let me take that," I offered, turning to shut the door. I allowed myself one last glance at Edythe.

She was waiting, perfectly still, her eyes solemn.

"You'll want to put it in the fridge," Billy noted as he handed me the package. "It's some of Harry Clearwater's homemade fish fry — Charlie's favorite. The fridge keeps it drier." He shrugged.

"Thanks," I repeated, but with feeling this time. "I was running out of new ways to fix fish, and he's bound to bring home more tonight."

"Fishing again?" Billy asked with a subtle gleam in his eye. "Down at the usual spot? Maybe I'll run by and see him."

"No," I quickly lied, my face going hard. "He was headed someplace new… but I have no idea where."

He took in my changed expression, and it made him thoughtful.

"Jules," he said, still appraising me. "Why don't you go get that new picture of Rebecca out of the car? I'll leave that for Charlie, too."

"Where is it?" Julie asked, her voice morose. I glanced at her, but she was staring at the floor, her eyebrows pulling together.

"I think I saw it in the trunk," Billy said. "You may have to dig for it."

Julie slouched back out into the rain.

Billy and I faced each other in silence. After a few seconds, the quiet started to feel awkward, so I turned and headed to the kitchen. I could hear his wet wheels squeak against the linoleum as he followed.

I shoved the bag onto the crowded top shelf of the fridge, and spun around to confront him. His deeply lined face was unreadable.

"Charlie won't be back for a long time." My voice was almost rude.

He nodded in agreement, but said nothing.

"Thanks again for the fish fry," I hinted.

He continued nodding. I sighed and folded my arms across my chest.

He seemed to sense that I had given up on small talk. "Bella," he said, and then he hesitated.

I waited.

"Bella," he said again, "Charlie is one of my best friends."

"Yes."

He spoke each word carefully in his rumbling voice. "I noticed you've been spending time with one of the Cullens."

"Yes," I repeated curtly.

His eyes narrowed. "Maybe it's none of my business, but I don't think that is such a good idea."

"You're right," I agreed. "It is none of your business."

He raised his graying eyebrows at my tone. "You probably don't know this, but the Cullen family has an unpleasant reputation on the reservation."

"Actually, I did know that," I informed him in a hard voice. This surprised him. "But that reputation couldn't be deserved, could it? Because the Cullens never set foot on the reservation, do they?" I could see that my less than subtle reminder of the agreement that both bound and protected his tribe pulled him up short.

"That's true," he acceded, his eyes guarded. "You seem… well informed about the Cullens. More informed than I expected."

I stared him down. "Maybe even better informed than you are."

He pursed his thick lips as he considered that. "Maybe." he allowed, but his eyes were shrewd. "Is Charlie as well informed?"

He had found the weak chink in my armor.

"Charlie likes the Cullens a lot," I hedged. He clearly understood my evasion. His expression was unhappy, but unsurprised.

"It's not my business," he said. "But it may be Charlie's."

"Though it would be my business, again, whether or not I think that it's Charlie's business, right?"

I wondered if he even understood my confused question as I struggled not to say anything compromising.

But he seemed to. He thought about it while the rain picked up against the roof, the only sound breaking the silence.

"Yes," he finally surrendered. "I guess that's your business, too."

I sighed with relief. "Thanks, Billy."

"Just think about what you're doing, Bella," he urged.

"Okay," I agreed quickly.

He frowned. "What I meant to say was, don't do what you're doing."

I looked into his eyes, filled with nothing but concern for me, and there was nothing I could say.

Just then the front door banged loudly, and I jumped at the sound.

"There's no picture anywhere in that car." Julie's complaining voice reached us before she did. The  
shoulders of her shirt were stained with the rain, her hair dripping, when she rounded the corner.

"Hmm," Billy grunted, suddenly detached, spinning his chair around to face his daughter. "I guess I left it at home."

Julie rolled his eyes dramatically. "Great."

"Well, Bella, tell Charlie" — Billy paused before continuing — "that we stopped by, I mean."

"I will," I muttered.

Julie was surprised. "Are we leaving already?"

"Charlie's gonna be out late," Billy explained as he rolled himself past Julie.

"Oh." Julie looked disappointed. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, then, Bella."

"Sure," I agreed.

"Take care," Billy warned me. I didn't answer.

Julie helped her father out the door. I waved briefly, glancing swiftly toward my now-empty truck, and then shut the door before they were gone.

I stood in the hallway for a minute, listening to the sound of their car as it backed out and drove away. I stayed where I was, waiting for the irritation and anxiety to subside. When the tension eventually faded a bit, I headed upstairs to change out of my dressy clothes.

I tried on a couple of different tops, not sure what to expect tonight. As I concentrated on what was coming, what had just passed became insignificant. Now that I was removed from Jasper's and Edythe's influence, I began to make up for not being terrified before. I gave up quickly on choosing an outfit — throwing on an old flannel shirt and jeans — knowing I would be in my raincoat all night anyway.

The phone rang and I sprinted downstairs to get it. There was only one voice I wanted to hear; anything else would be a disappointment. But I knew that if he wanted to talk to me, he'd probably just materialize in my room.

"Hello?" I asked, breathless.

"Bella? It's me," Jessica said.

"Oh, hey, Jess." I scrambled for a moment to come back down to reality. It felt like months rather than days since I'd spoken to Jess. "How was the dance?"

"It was so much fun!" Jessica gushed. Needing no more invitation than that, she launched into a minute-by-minute account of the previous night. I mmm'd and ahh'd at the right places, but it wasn't easy to concentrate. Jessica, Mike, the dance, the school — they all seemed strangely irrelevant at the moment. My eyes kept flashing to the window, trying to judge the degree of light behind the heavy clouds.

"Did you hear what I said, Bella?" Jess asked, irritated.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, Mike kissed me! Can you believe it?"

"That's wonderful, Jess," I said.

"So what did you do yesterday?" Jessica challenged, still sounding bothered by my lack of attention. Or maybe she was upset because I hadn't asked for details.

"Nothing, really. I just hung around outside to enjoy the sun."

I heard Charlie's car in the garage.

"Did you ever hear anything more from Edythe Cullen?"

The front door slammed and I could hear Charlie banging around under the stairs, putting his tackle away.

"Um." I hesitated, not sure what my story was anymore.

"Hi there, kiddo!" Charlie called as he walked into the kitchen. I waved at him.

Jess heard his voice. "Oh, your dad's there. Never mind — we'll talk tomorrow. See you in Trig."

"See ya, Jess." I hung up the phone.

"Hey, Dad," I said. He was scrubbing his hands in the sink. "Where's the fish?"

"I put it out in the freezer." 

"I'll go grab a few pieces before they freeze — Billy dropped off some of Harry Clearwater's fish fry this afternoon." I worked to sound enthusiastic.

"He did?" Charlie's eyes lit up. "That's my favorite."

Charlie cleaned up while I got dinner ready. It didn't take long till we were sitting at the table, eating in silence. Charlie was enjoying his food. I was wondering desperately how to fulfill my assignment, struggling to think of a way to broach the subject.

"What did you do with yourself today?" he asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Well, this afternoon I just hung out around the house…" Only the very recent part of this afternoon, actually. I tried to keep my voice upbeat, but my stomach was hollow. "And this morning I was over at the Cullens'."

Charlie dropped his fork.

"Dr. Cullen's place?" he asked in astonishment.

I pretended not to notice his reaction. "Yeah."

"What were you doing there?" He hadn't picked his fork back up.

"Well, I sort of have a date with Edythe Cullen tonight, and she wanted to introduce me to her parents…

Dad?"

It appeared that Charlie was having an aneurysm.

"Dad, are you all right?"

"You are going out with Edythe Cullen? A girl?" he thundered.

Uh-oh. "I thought you liked the Cullens."

"She's too old for you, and wouldn't you rather go out with a boy?" he ranted.

"We're both juniors," I corrected, though he was more right than he dreamed.

"Wait…" He paused. "Which one is this girl?"

"Edythe is the youngest, the one with the long reddish brown hair." The beautiful one, the goddesslike one…

"Oh, well, that's" — he struggled — "better, I guess. I don't like the look of that big one. I'm sure he's a nice boy and all, but he looks too… mature for you. Is this girl your girlfriend?"

"It's Edythe, Dad."

"Is she?"

"Sort of, I guess."

"You said last night that you weren't interested in any of the boys in town." But he picked up his fork again, so I could see the worst was over.

"Well, Edythe is a girl,and she doesn't live in town, Dad."

He gave me a disparaging look as he chewed.

"And, anyways," I continued, "it's kind of at an early stage, you know. Don't embarrass me with all the relationship talk, okay?"

"So are you gay then? Are you a lesbian?" He questioned me breathing hard.

"I guess. I just know that like her." Like a lot.

"When is she coming over?"

"She'll be here in a few minutes."

"Where is she taking you?"

I groaned loudly. "I hope you're getting the Spanish Inquisition out of your system now. We're going to play baseball with his family."

His face puckered, and then he finally chuckled. "You're playing baseball?"

"Well, I'll probably watch most of the time."

"You must really like this girl," he observed suspiciously.

I sighed and rolled my eyes for his benefit.

I heard the roar of an engine pull up in front of the house. I jumped up and started cleaning my dishes.

"Leave the dishes, I can do them tonight. You baby me too much."

The doorbell rang, and Charlie stalked off to answer it. I was half a step behind him.

I hadn't realized how hard it was pouring outside. Edythe stood in the halo of the porch light, looking  
like a model in an advertisement for raincoats.

"Come on in, Edythe."

I breathed a sigh of relief when Charlie got her name right.

"Thanks, Chief Swan," Edythe said in a respectful voice.

"Go ahead and call me Charlie. Here, I'll take your jacket."

"Thanks, sir."

"Have a seat there, Edythe."

I grimaced.

Edythe sat down fluidly in the only chair, forcing me to sit next to Chief Swan on the sofa. I quickly shot her a dirty look. She winked behind Charlie's back.

"So I hear you're getting my girl to watch baseball." Only in Washington would the fact that it was raining buckets have no bearing at all on the playing of outdoor sports.

"Yes, sir, that's the plan." She didn't look surprised that I'd told my father the truth. She might have been listening, though.

"Well, more power to you, I guess."

Charlie laughed, and Edythe joined in.

"Okay." I stood up. "Enough humor at my expense. Let's go." I walked back to the hall and pulled on my jacket. They followed.

"Not too late, Bell."

"Don't worry, Charlie, I'll have her home early," Edythe promised.

"You take care of my girl, all right?"

I groaned, but they ignored me.

"She'll be safe with me, I promise, sir."

Charlie couldn't doubt Edythe's sincerity, it rang in every word.

I stalked out. They both laughed, and Edythe followed me.

I stopped dead on the porch. There, behind my truck, was a monster Jeep. Its tires were higher than my waist. There were metal guards over the headlights and tail-lights, and four large spotlights attached to the crash bar. The hardtop was shiny red.

Charlie let out a low whistle.

"Wear your seat belts," he choked out.

Edythe followed me around to my side and opened the door. I gauged the distance to the seat and prepared to jump for it. She sighed, and then lifted me in with one hand. I hoped Charlie didn't notice.

As she went around to the driver's side, at a normal, human pace, I tried to put on my seat belt. But there were too many buckles.

"What's all this?" I asked when she opened the door.

"It's an off-roading harness."

"Uh-oh."

I tried to find the right places for all the buckles to fit, but it wasn't going too quickly. She sighed again and reached over to help me. I was glad that the rain was too heavy to see Charlie clearly on the porch.

That meant he couldn't see how Edythe's hands lingered at my neck, brushed along my collarbones. I gave up trying to help her and focused on not hyperventilating.

Edythe turned the key and the engine roared to life. We pulled away from the house.

"This is a… um… big Jeep you have."

"It's Emmett's. I didn't think you'd want to run the whole way."

"Where do you keep this thing?"

"We remodeled one of the outbuildings into a garage."

"Aren't you going to put on your seat belt?"

She threw me a disbelieving look.

Then something sunk in.

"Run the whole way? As in, we're still going to run part of the way?" My voice edged up a few octaves.

She grinned tightly. "You're not going to run."

"I'm going to be sick."

"Keep your eyes closed, you'll be fine."

I bit my lip, fighting the panic.

She leaned over to kiss the top of my head, and then groaned. I looked at her, puzzled.

"You smell so good in the rain," she explained.

"In a good way, or in a bad way?" I asked cautiously.

She sighed. "Both, always both."

I don't know how she found her way in the gloom and downpour, but she somehow found a side road that was less of a road and more of a mountain path. For a long while conversation was impossible, because I was bouncing up and down on the seat like a jackhammer. She seemed to enjoy the ride, though, smiling hugely the whole way.

And then we came to the end of the road; the trees formed green walls on three sides of the Jeep. The rain was a mere drizzle, slowing every second, the sky brighter through the clouds.

"Sorry, Bella, we have to go on foot from here."

"You know what? I'll just wait here."

"What happened to all your courage? You were extraordinary this morning."

"I haven't forgotten the last time yet." Could it have been only yesterday?

She was around to my side of the car in a blur. She started unbuckling me.

"I'll get those, you go on ahead," I protested.

"Hmmm…" she mused as she quickly finished. "It seems I'm going to have to tamper with your memory."

Before I could react, she pulled me from the Jeep and set my feet on the ground. It was barely misting now; Alice was going to be right.

"Tamper with my memory?" I asked nervously.

"Something like that." She was watching me intently, carefully, but there was humor deep in her eyes.

She placed her hands against the Jeep on either side of my head and leaned forward, forcing me to press back against the door. She leaned in even closer, her face inches from mine. I had no room to escape.

"Now," she breathed, and just her smell disturbed my thought processes, "what exactly are you worrying about?"

"Well, um, hitting a tree —" I gulped "— and dying. And then getting sick."

She fought back a smile. Then she bent her head down and touched her cold lips softly to the hollow at the base of my throat.

"Are you still worried now?" she murmured against my skin.

"Yes." I struggled to concentrate. "About hitting trees and getting sick."

Her nose drew a line up the skin of my throat to the point of my chin. Her cold breath tickled my skin.

"And now?" Her lips whispered against my jaw.

"Trees," I gasped. "Motion sickness."

She lifted her face to kiss my eyelids. "Bella, you don't really think I would hit a tree, do you?"

"No, but I might." There was no confidence in my voice. She smelled an easy victory.

She kissed slowly down my cheek, stopping just at the corner of my mouth.

"Would I let a tree hurt you?" Her lips barely brushed against my trembling lower lip.

"No," I breathed. I knew there was a second part to my brilliant defense, but I couldn't quite call it back.

"You see," she said, her lips moving against mine. "There's nothing to be afraid of, is there?"

"No," I sighed, giving up.

Then she took my face in her hands almost roughly, and kissed me in earnest, her unyielding lips moving against mine.

There really was no excuse for my behavior. Obviously I knew better by now. And yet I couldn't seem to stop from reacting exactly as I had the first time. Instead of keeping safely motionless, my arms reached up to twine tightly around her neck, and I was suddenly welded to her stone figure. I sighed, and my lips parted.

She staggered back, breaking my grip effortlessly.

"Damn it, Bella!" she broke off, gasping. "You'll be the death of me, I swear you will."

I leaned over, bracing my hands against my knees for support.

"You're indestructible," I mumbled, trying to catch my breath.

"I might have believed that before I met you. Now let's get out of here before I do something really stupid," she growled.

She threw me across her back as she had before, and I could see the extra effort it took for her to be as gentle as she was. I locked my legs around her waist and secured my arms in a choke hold around her neck.

"Don't forget to close your eyes," she warned severely.

I quickly tucked my face into her shoulder blade, under my own arm, and squeezed my eyes shut.

And I could hardly tell we were moving. I could feel her gliding along beneath me, but she could have been strolling down the sidewalk, the movement was so smooth. I was tempted to peek, just to see if she was really flying through the forest like before, but I resisted. It wasn't worth that awful dizziness. I contented myself with listening to her breath come and go evenly.

I wasn't quite sure we had stopped until she reached back and touched my hair.

"It's over, Bella."

I dared to open my eyes, and, sure enough, we were at a standstill. I stiffly unlocked my stranglehold on her body and slipped to the ground, landing on my backside.

"Oh!" I huffed as I hit the wet ground.

She stared at me incredulously, evidently not sure whether she was still too mad to find me funny. But my bewildered expression pushed her over the edge, and she broke into a roar of laughter.

I picked myself up, ignoring her as I brushed the mud and bracken off the back of my jacket. That only made her laugh harder. Annoyed, I began to stride off into the forest.

I felt her arm around my waist.

"Where are you going, Bella?"

"To watch a baseball game. You don't seem to be interested in playing anymore, but I'm sure the others will have fun without you."

"You're going the wrong way."

I turned around without looking at her, and stalked off in the opposite direction. She caught me again.

"Don't be mad, I couldn't help myself. You should have seen your face." She chuckled before she could stop herself.

"Oh, you're the only one who's allowed to get mad?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I wasn't mad at you."

"'Bella, you'll be the death of me'?" I quoted sourly.

"That was simply a statement of fact."

I tried to turn away from her again, but she held me fast.

"You were mad," I insisted.

"Yes."

"But you just said —"

"That I wasn't mad at you. Can't you see that, Bella?" She was suddenly intense, all trace of teasing gone.

"Don't you understand?"

"See what?" I demanded, confused by her sudden mood swing as much as her words.

"I'm never angry with you — how could I be? Brave, trusting… warm as you are."

"Then why?" I whispered, remembering the black moods that pulled her away from me, that I'd always interpreted as well-justified frustration — frustration at my weakness, my slowness, my unruly human reactions…

She put her hands carefully on both sides of my face. "I infuriate myself," she said gently. "The way I can't seem to keep from putting you in danger. My very existence puts you at risk. Sometimes I truly hate myself. I should be stronger, I should be able to —"

I placed my hand over her mouth. "Don't."

She took my hand, moving it from her lips, but holding it to her face.

"I love you," she said. "It's a poor excuse for what I'm doing, but it's still true."

It was the first time she'd said she loved me — in so many words. She might not realize it, but I certainly  
did.

"Now, please try to behave yourself," she continued, and she bent to softly brush her lips against mine.

I held properly still. Then I sighed.

"You promised Chief Swan that you would have me home early, remember? We'd better get going."

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled wistfully and released all of me but one hand. She led me a few feet through the tall, wet ferns and draping moss, around a massive hemlock tree, and we were there, on the edge of an enormous open field in the lap of the Olympic peaks. It was twice the size of any baseball stadium.

I could see the others all there; Esme, Emmett, and Rosalie, sitting on a bare outcropping of rock, were the closest to us, maybe a hundred yards away. Much farther out I could see Jasper and Alice, at least a quarter of a mile apart, appearing to throw something back and forth, but I never saw any ball. It looked like Carlisle was marking bases, but could they really be that far apart?

When we came into view, the three on the rocks rose.

Esme started toward us. Emmett followed after a long look at Rosalie's back; Rosalie had risen gracefully and strode off toward the field without a glance in our direction. My stomach quivered uneasily in response.

"Was that you we heard, Edythe?" Esme asked as she approached.

"It sounded like a bear choking," Emmett clarified.

I smiled hesitantly at Esme. "That was her."

"Bella was being unintentionally funny," Edythe explained, quickly settling the score.

Alice had left her position and was running, or dancing, toward us. She hurtled to a fluid stop at our feet.

"It's time," she announced.

As soon as she spoke, a deep rumble of thunder shook the forest beyond us, and then crashed westward toward town.

"Eerie, isn't it?" Emmett said with easy familiarity, winking at me.

"Let's go." Alice reached for Emmett's hand and they darted toward the oversized field; she ran like a gazelle. He was nearly as graceful and just as fast — yet Emmett could never be compared to a gazelle.

"Are you ready for some ball?" Edythe asked, her eyes eager, bright.

I tried to sound appropriately enthusiastic. "Go team!"

She snickered and, after mussing my hair, bounded off after the other two. Her run was more aggressive, a cheetah rather than a gazelle, and she quickly overtook them. The grace and power took my breath away.

"Shall we go down?" Esme asked in her soft, melodic voice, and I realized I was staring open mouthed after her. I quickly reassembled my expression and nodded. Esme kept a few feet between us, and I wondered if she was still being careful not to frighten me. She matched her stride to mine without seeming impatient at the pace.

"You don't play with them?" I asked shyly.

"No, I prefer to referee — I like keeping them honest," she explained.

"Do they like to cheat, then?"

"Oh yes — you should hear the arguments they get into! Actually, I hope you don't, you would think they were raised by a pack of wolves."

"You sound like my mom," I laughed, surprised.

She laughed, too. "Well, I do think of them as my children in most ways. I never could get over my mothering instincts — did Edythe tell you I had lost a child?"

"No," I murmured, stunned, scrambling to understand what lifetime she was remembering.

"Yes, my first and only baby. He died just a few days after he was born, the poor tiny thing," she sighed.

"It broke my heart — that's why I jumped off the cliff, you know," she added matter-of-factly.

"Edythe just said you f-fell," I stammered.

"Always so considerate." She smiled. "Edythe was the first of my new daughters. I've always thought of her that way, even though she's older than I, in one way at least." She smiled at me warmly. "That's why I'm so happy that she's found you, dear." The endearment sounded very natural on her lips. "She's been the odd one out for far too long; it's hurt me to see her alone."

"You don't mind, then?" I asked, hesitant again. "That I'm… all wrong for her?"

"No." She was thoughtful. "You're what she wants. It will work out, somehow," she said, though her forehead creased with worry. Another peal of thunder began.

Esme stopped then; apparently, we'd reached the edge of the field. It looked as if they had formed teams. Edythe was far out in left field, Carlisle stood between the first and second bases, and Alice held the ball, positioned on the spot that must be the pitcher's mound.

Emmett was swinging an aluminum bat; it whistled almost untraceably through the air. I waited for him to approach home plate, but then I realized, as he took his stance, that he was already there — farther from the pitcher's mound than I would have thought possible. Jasper stood several feet behind him, catching for the other team. Of course, none of them had gloves.

"All right," Esme called in a clear voice, which I knew even Edythe would hear, as far out as she was.

"Batter up."

Alice stood straight, deceptively motionless. Her style seemed to be stealth rather than an intimidating windup. She held the ball in both hands at her waist, and then, like the strike of a cobra, her right hand flicked out and the ball smacked into Jasper's hand.

"Was that a strike?" I whispered to Esme.

"If they don't hit it, it's a strike," she told me.

Jasper hurled the ball back to Alice's waiting hand. She permitted herself a brief grin. And then her hand spun out again.

This time the bat somehow made it around in time to smash into the invisible ball. The crack of impact was shattering, thunderous; it echoed off the mountains — I immediately understood the necessity of the thunderstorm.

The ball shot like a meteor above the field, flying deep into the surrounding forest.

"Home run," I murmured.

"Wait," Esme cautioned, listening intently, one hand raised. Emmett was a blur around the bases, Carlisle shadowing him. I realized Edythe was missing.

"Out!" Esme cried in a clear voice. I stared in disbelief as Edythe sprang from the fringe of the trees, ball in her upraised hand, her wide grin visible even to me.

"Emmett hits the hardest," Esme explained, "but Edythe runs the fastest."

The inning continued before my incredulous eyes. It was impossible to keep up with the speed at which the ball flew, the rate at which their bodies raced around the field.

I learned the other reason they waited for a thunderstorm to play when Jasper, trying to avoid Edythe's infallible fielding, hit a ground ball toward Carlisle. Carlisle ran into the ball, and then raced Jasper to first base. When they collided, the sound was like the crash of two massive falling boulders. I jumped up in concern, but they were somehow unscathed.

"Safe," Esme called in a calm voice.

Emmett's team was up by one — Rosalie managed to flit around the bases after tagging up on one of Emmett's long flies — when Edythe caught the third out. She sprinted to my side, sparkling with excitement.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"One thing's for sure, I'll never be able to sit through dull old Major League Baseball again."

"And it sounds like you did so much of that before," she laughed.

"I am a little disappointed," I teased.

"Why?" she asked, puzzled.

"Well, it would be nice if I could find just one thing you didn't do better than everyone else on the planet."

She flashed her special dimpled smile, leaving me breathless.

"I'm up," dhe said, heading for the plate.

She played intelligently, keeping the ball low, out of the reach of Rosalie's always-ready hand in the outfield, gaining two bases like lightning before Emmett could get the ball back in play. Carlisle knocked one so far out of the field — with a boom that hurt my ears — that he and Edythe both made it in. Alice slapped them dainty high fives.

The score constantly changed as the game continued, and they razzed each other like any street ballplayers as they took turns with the lead. Occasionally Esme would call them to order. The thunder rumbled on, but we stayed dry, as Alice had predicted.

Carlisle was up to bat, Edythe catching, when Alice suddenly gasped. My eyes were on Edythe, as usual, and I saw her head snap up to look at her. Their eyes met and something flowed between them in an instant. She was at my side before the others could ask Alice what was wrong.

"Alice?" Esme's voice was tense.

"I didn't see — I couldn't tell," she whispered.

All the others were gathered by this time.

"What is it, Alice?" Carlisle asked with the calm voice of authority.

"They were traveling much quicker than I thought. I can see I had the perspective wrong before," she murmured.

Jasper leaned over her, his posture protective. "What changed?" he asked.

"They heard us playing, and it changed their path," she said, contrite, as if she felt responsible for whatever had frightened her.

Seven pairs of quick eyes flashed to my face and away.

"How soon?" Carlisle said, turning toward Edythe.

A look of intense concentration crossed her face.

"Less than five minutes. They're running — they want to play." She scowled.

"Can you make it?" Carlisle asked her, his eyes flicking toward me again.

"No, not carrying —" She cut short. "Besides, the last thing we need is for them to catch the scent and start hunting."

"How many?" Emmett asked Alice.

"Three," she answered tersely.

"Three!" he scoffed. "Let them come." The steel bands of muscle flexed along his massive arms.

For a split second that seemed much longer than it really was, Carlisle deliberated. Only Emmett seemed unperturbed; the rest stared at Carlisle's face with anxious eyes.

"Let's just continue the game," Carlisle finally decided. His voice was cool and level. "Alice said they were simply curious."

All this was said in a flurry of words that lasted only a few seconds. I had listened carefully and caught most of it, though I couldn't hear what Esme now asked Edythe with a silent vibration of her lips. I only saw the slight shake of her head and the look of relief on her face.

"You catch, Esme," she said. "I'll call it now." And she planted herself in front of me.

The others returned to the field, warily sweeping the dark forest with their sharp eyes. Alice and Esme seemed to orient themselves around where I stood.

"Take your hair down," Edythe said in a low, even voice.

I obediently slid the rubber band out of my hair and shook it out around me.

I stated the obvious. "The others are coming now."

"Yes, stay very still, keep quiet, and don't move from my side, please." She hid the stress in her voice well, but I could hear it. She pulled my long hair forward, around my face.


	20. THE HUNT

They emerged one by one from the forest edge, ranging a dozen meters apart. The first male into the clearing fell back immediately, allowing the other male to take the front, orienting himself around the tall, dark-haired man in a manner that clearly displayed who led the pack. The third was a woman; from this distance, all I could see of her was that her hair was a startling shade of red.

They closed ranks before they continued cautiously toward Edythe's family, exhibiting the natural respect of a troop of predators as it encounters a larger, unfamiliar group of its own kind.

As they approached, I could see how different they were from the Cullens. Their walk was catlike, a gait that seemed constantly on the edge of shifting into a crouch. They dressed in the ordinary gear of backpackers: jeans and casual button-down shirts in heavy, weatherproof fabrics. The clothes were frayed, though, with wear, and they were barefoot. Both men had cropped hair, but the woman's brilliant orange hair was filled with leaves and debris from the woods.

Their sharp eyes carefully took in the more polished, urbane stance of Carlisle, who, flanked by Emmett and Jasper, stepped guardedly forward to meet them. Without any seeming communication between them, they each straightened into a more casual, erect bearing.

The man in front was easily the most beautiful, his skin olive-toned beneath the typical pallor, his hair a glossy black. He was of a medium build, hard-muscled, of course, but nothing next to Emmett's brawn.

He smiled an easy smile, exposing a flash of gleaming white teeth.

The woman was wilder, her eyes shifting restlessly between the men facing her, and the loose grouping around me, her chaotic hair quivering in the slight breeze. Her posture was distinctly feline. The second male hovered unobtrusively behind them, slighter than the leader, his light brown hair and regular features both nondescript. His eyes, though completely still, somehow seemed the most vigilant.

Their eyes were different, too. Not the gold or black I had come to expect, but a deep burgundy color that was disturbing and sinister.

The dark-haired man, still smiling, stepped toward Carlisle.

"We thought we heard a game," he said in a relaxed voice with the slightest of French accents. "I'm Laurent, these are Victoria and James." He gestured to the vampires beside him.

"I'm Carlisle. This is my family, Emmett and Jasper, Rosalie, Esme and Alice, Edythe and Bella." He pointed us out in groups, deliberately not calling attention to individuals. I felt a shock when he said my name.

"Do you have room for a few more players?" Laurent asked sociably.

Carlisle matched Laurent's friendly tone. "Actually, we were just finishing up. But we'd certainly be interested another time. Are you planning to stay in the area for long?"

"We're headed north, in fact, but we were curious to see who was in the neighborhood. We haven't run into any company in a long time."

"No, this region is usually empty except for us and the occasional visitor, like yourselves."

The tense atmosphere had slowly subsided into a casual conversation; I guessed that Jasper was using his peculiar gift to control the situation.

"What's your hunting range?" Laurent casually inquired.

Carlisle ignored the assumption behind the inquiry. "The Olympic Range here, up and down the Coast Ranges on occasion. We keep a permanent residence nearby. There's another permanent settlement like ours up near Denali."

Laurent rocked back on his heels slightly.

"Permanent? How do you manage that?" There was honest curiosity in his voice.

"Why don't you come back to our home with us and we can talk comfortably?" Carlisle invited. "It's a rather long story."

James and Victoria exchanged a surprised look at the mention of the word "home," but Laurent controlled his expression better.

"That sounds very interesting, and welcome." His smile was genial. "We've been on the hunt all the way down from Ontario, and we haven't had the chance to clean up in a while." His eyes moved  
appreciatively over Carlisle's refined appearance.

"Please don't take offense, but we'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from hunting in this immediate area. We have to stay inconspicuous, you understand," Carlisle explained.

"Of course." Laurent nodded. "We certainly won't encroach on your territory. We just ate outside of Seattle, anyway," he laughed. A shiver ran up my spine.

"We'll show you the way if you'd like to run with us — Emmett and Alice, you can go with Edythe and Bella to get the Jeep," he casually added.

Three things seemed to happen simultaneously while Carlisle was speaking. My hair ruffled with the light breeze, Edythe stiffened, and the second male, James, suddenly whipped his head around, scrutinizing me, his nostrils flaring.

A swift rigidity fell on all of them as James lurched one step forward into a crouch. Edythe bared her teeth, crouching in defense, a feral snarl ripping from her throat.

It was nothing like the playful sounds I'd heard from her this morning; it was the single most menacing thing I had ever heard, and chills ran from the crown of my head to the back of my heels.

"What's this?" Laurent exclaimed in open surprise. Neither James nor Edythe relaxed their aggressive poses. James feinted slightly to the side, and Edythe shifted in response.

"She's with us." Carlisle's firm rebuff was directed toward James. Laurent seemed to catch my scent less powerfully than James, but awareness now dawned on his face.

"You brought a snack?" he asked, his expression incredulous as he took an involuntary step forward.

Edythe snarled even more ferociously, harshly, her lip curling high above her glistening, bared teeth.

Laurent stepped back again.

"I said she's with us," Carlisle corrected in a hard voice.

"But she's human," Laurent protested. The words were not at all aggressive, merely astounded.

"Yes." Emmett was very much in evidence at Carlisle's side, his eyes on James. James slowly straightened out of his crouch, but his eyes never left me, his nostrils still wide. Edythe stayed tensed like a lion in front of me.

When Laurent spoke, his tone was soothing — trying to defuse the sudden hostility. "It appears we have a lot to learn about each other."

"Indeed." Carlisle's voice was still cool.

"But we'd like to accept your invitation." His eyes flicked toward me and back to Carlisle. "And, of course, we will not harm the human girl. We won't hunt in your range, as I said."

James glanced in disbelief and aggravation at Laurent and exchanged another brief look with Victoria, whose eyes still flickered edgily from face to face.

Carlisle measured Laurent's open expression for a moment before he spoke. "We'll show you the way. Jasper, Rosalie, Esme?" he called. They gathered together, blocking me from view as they converged. Alice was instantly at my side, and Emmett fell back slowly, his eyes locked on James as he backed toward us.

"Let's go, Bella." Edythe's voice was low and bleak.

This whole time I'd been rooted in place, terrified into absolute immobility. Edythe had to grip my elbow and pull sharply to break my trance. Alice and Emmett were close behind us, hiding me. I stumbled alongside Edythe, still stunned with fear. I couldn't hear if the main group had left yet. Edythe's impatience was almost tangible as we moved at human speed to the forest edge.  
Once we were into the trees, Edythe slung me over her back without breaking stride. I gripped as tightly as possible as she took off, the others close on her heels. I kept my head down, but my eyes, wide with fright, wouldn't close. They plunged through the now-black forest like wraiths. The sense of exhilaration that usually seemed to possess Edythe as she ran was completely absent, replaced by a fury that consumed her and drove her still faster. Even with me on her back, the others trailed behind.

We reached the Jeep in an impossibly short time, and Edythe barely slowed as she flung me in the backseat.

"Strap her in," she ordered Emmett, who slid in beside me. Alice was already in the front seat, and Edythe was starting the engine. It roared to life and we swerved backward, spinning around to face the winding road.

Edythe was growling something too fast for me to understand, but it sounded a lot like a string of profanities.

The jolting trip was much worse this time, and the darkness only made it more frightening. Emmett and Alice both glared out the side windows.

We hit the main road, and though our speed increased, I could see much better where we were going.

And we were headed south, away from Forks.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

No one answered. No one even looked at me.

"Dammit, Edythe! Where are you taking me?"

"We have to get you away from here — far away — now." She didn't look back, her eyes on the road.

The speedometer read a hundred and five miles an hour.

"Turn around! You have to take me home!" I shouted. I struggled with the stupid harness, tearing at the straps.

"Emmett," Edythe said grimly.

And Emmett secured my hands in his steely grasp.

"No! Edythe! No, you can't do this."

"I have to, Bella, now please be quiet."

"I won't! You have to take me back — Charlie will call the FBI! They'll be all over your family — Carlisle and Esme! They'll have to leave, to hide forever!"

"Calm down, Bella." Her voice was cold. "We've been there before."

"Not over me, you don't! You're not ruining everything over me!" I struggled violently, with total futility.

Alice spoke for the first time. "Edythe, pull over."

She flashed her a hard look, and then sped up.

"Edythe, let's just talk this through."

"You don't understand," she roared in frustration. I'd never heard her voice so loud; it was deafening in the confines of the Jeep. The speedometer neared one hundred and fifteen. "He's a tracker, Alice, did you see that? He's a tracker!"

I felt Emmett stiffen next to me, and I wondered at his reaction to the word. It meant something more to the three of them than it did to me; I wanted to understand, but there was no opening for me to ask.

"Pull over, Edythe." Alice's tone was reasonable, but there was a ring of authority in it I'd never heard before.

The speedometer inched passed one-twenty.

"Do it, Edythe."

"Listen to me, Alice. I saw his mind. Tracking is his passion, his obsession — and he wants her, Alice —her, specifically. He begins the hunt tonight."

"He doesn't know where —"

She interrupted her. "How long do you think it will take him to cross her scent in town? His plan was already set before the words were out of Laurent's mouth."

I gasped, knowing where my scent would lead. "Charlie! You can't leave him there! You can't leave him!" I thrashed against the harness.

"She's right," Alice said.

The car slowed slightly.

"Let's just look at our options for a minute," Alice coaxed.

The car slowed again, more noticeably, and then suddenly we screeched to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. I flew against the harness, and then slammed back into the seat.

"There are no options," Edythe hissed.

"I'm not leaving Charlie!" I yelled.

She ignored me completely.

"We have to take her back," Emmett finally spoke.

"No." Edythe was absolute.

"He's no match for us, Edythe. He won't be able to touch her."

"He'll wait."

Emmett smiled. "I can wait, too."

"You didn't see — you don't understand. Once he commits to a hunt, he's unshakable. We'd have to kill him."

Emmett didn't seem upset by the idea. "That's an option."

"And the female. She's with him. If it turns into a fight, the leader will go with them, too."

"There are enough of us."

"There's another option," Alice said quietly.

Edythe turned on her in fury, her voice a blistering snarl. "There — is — no — other — option!"

Emmett and I both stared at her in shock, but Alice seemed unsurprised. The silence lasted for a long minute as Edythe and Alice stared each other down.

I broke it. "Does anyone want to hear my plan?"

"No," Edythe growled. Alice glared at her, finally provoked.

"Listen," I pleaded. "You take me back."

"No," she interrupted.

I glared at her and continued. "You take me back. I tell my dad I want to go home to Phoenix. I pack my bags. We wait till this tracker is watching, and then we run. He'll follow us and leave Charlie alone. Charlie won't call the FBI on your family. Then you can take me any damned place you want."

They stared at me, stunned.

"It's not a bad idea, really." Emmett's surprise was definitely an insult.

"It might work — and we simply can't leave her father unprotected. You know that," Alice said.

Everyone looked at Edythe.

"It's too dangerous — I don't want him within a hundred miles of her."

Emmett was supremely confident. "Edythe, he's not getting through us."

Alice thought for a minute. "I don't see him attacking. He'll try to wait for us to leave her alone."

"It won't take long for him to realize that's not going to happen."

"I demand that you take me home." I tried to sound firm.

Edythe pressed her fingers to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Please," I said in a much smaller voice.

She didn't look up. When she spoke, her voice sounded worn.

"You're leaving tonight, whether the tracker sees or not. You tell Charlie that you can't stand another minute in Forks. Tell him whatever story works. Pack the first things your hands touch, and then get in your truck. I don't care what he says to you. You have fifteen minutes. Do you hear me? Fifteen minutes from the time you cross the doorstep."

The Jeep rumbled to life, and she spun us around, the tires squealing. The needle on the speedometer started to race up the dial.

"Emmett?" I asked, looking pointedly at my hands.

"Oh, sorry." He let me loose.

A few minutes passed in silence, other than the roar of the engine. Then Edythe spoke again.

"This is how it's going to happen. When we get to the house, if the tracker is not there, I will walk her to the door. Then she has fifteen minutes." She glared at me in the rearview mirror. "Emmett, you take the outside of the house. Alice, you get the truck. I'll be inside as long as she is. After she's out, you two can take the Jeep home and tell Carlisle."

"No way," Emmett broke in. "I'm with you."

"Think it through, Emmett. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"Until we know how far this is going to go, I'm with you."

Edythe sighed at her best friend. "If the tracker is there," she continued grimly, "we keep driving."

"We're going to make it there before him," Alice said confidently.

Edythe seemed to accept that. Whatever his problem with Alice was, he didn't doubt her now.

"What are we going to do with the Jeep?" she asked.

Her voice had a hard edge. "You're driving it home."

"No, I'm not," she said calmly.

The unintelligible stream of profanities started again.

"We can't all fit in my truck," I whispered.

Edythe didn't appear to hear me.

"I think you should let me go alone," I said even more quietly.

She heard that.

"Bella, please just do this my way, just this once," she said between clenched teeth.

"Listen, Charlie's not an imbecile," I protested. "If you're not in town tomorrow, he's going to get suspicious."

"That's irrelevant. We'll make sure he's safe, and that's all that matters."

"Then what about this tracker? He saw the way you acted tonight. He's going to think you're with me, wherever you are."

Emmett looked at me, insultingly surprised again. "Edythe, listen to her little sis," he urged. "I think she's right."

"Yes, she is," Alice agreed.

"I can't do that." Edythe's voice was icy.

"Emmett should stay, too," I continued. "He definitely got an eyeful of Emmett."

"What?" Emmett turned on me.

"You'll get a better crack at him if you stay," Alice agreed.

Edythe stared at her incredulously. "You think I should let her go alone?"

"Of course not," Alice said. "Jasper and I will take her."

"I can't do that," Edythe repeated, but this time there was a trace of defeat in her voice. The logic was working on her.

I tried to be persuasive. "Hang out here for a week —" I saw her expression in the mirror and amended"— a few days. Let Charlie see you haven't kidnapped me, and lead this James on a wild-goose chase. Make sure he's completely off my trail. Then come and meet me. Take a roundabout route, of course, and then Jasper and Alice can go home."

I could see her beginning to consider it.

"Meet you where?"

"Phoenix." Of course.

"No. He'll hear that's where you're going," she said impatiently.

"And you'll make it look like that's a ruse, obviously. He'll know that we'll know that he's listening. He'll never believe I'm actually going where I say I am going."

"She's diabolical," Emmett chuckled. "You picked a good one sis, I like her."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"There are several million people in Phoenix," I informed her.

"It's not that hard to find a phone book."

"I won't go home."

"Oh?" she inquired, a dangerous note in her voice.

"I'm quite old enough to get my own place."

"Edythe, we'll be with her," Alice reminded her.

"What are you going to do in Phoenix?" she asked her scathingly.

"Stay indoors."

"I kind of like it." Emmett was thinking about cornering James, no doubt.

"Shut up, Emmett."

"Look, if we try to take him down while she's still around, there's a much better chance that someone will get hurt — she'll get hurt, or you will, trying to protect her. Now, if we get him alone…" He trailed off with a slow smile. I was right.

The Jeep was crawling slowly along now as we drove into town. Despite my brave talk, I could feel the hairs on my arms standing up. I thought about Charlie, alone in the house, and tried to be courageous.

"Bella." Edythe's voice was very soft. Alice and Emmett looked out their windows. "If you let anything happen to yourself— anything at all — I'm holding you personally responsible. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," I gulped.

She turned to Alice.

"Can Jasper handle this?"

"Give him some credit, Edythe. He's been doing very, very well, all things considered."

"Can you handle this?" she asked.

And graceful little Alice pulled back her lips in a horrific grimace and let loose with a guttural snarl that had me cowering against the seat in terror.

Edythe smiled at her. "But keep your opinions to yourself," she muttered suddenly.


	21. GOODBYES

Charlie was waiting up for me. All the house lights were on. My mind was blank as I tried to think of a way to make him let me go. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

Edythe pulled up slowly, staying well back from my truck. All three of them were acutely alert, ramrod straight in their seats, listening to every sound of the wood, looking through every shadow, catching every scent, searching for something out of place. The engine cut off, and I sat, motionless, as they continued to listen.

"He's not here," Edythe said tensely. "Let's go." Emmett reached over to help me get out of the harness.

"Don't worry, Bella," he said in a low but cheerful voice, "we'll take care of things here quickly."

I felt moisture filling up my eyes as I looked at Emmett. I barely knew him, and yet, somehow, not knowing when I would see him again after tonight was anguishing. I knew this was just a faint taste of the goodbyes I would have to survive in the next hour, and the thought made the tears begin to spill.

"Alice, Emmett." Edythe's voice was a command. They slithered soundlessly into the darkness, instantly disappearing. Edythe opened my door and took my hand, then drew me into the protective enclosure of her arm. She walked me swiftly toward the house, eyes always roving through the night.

"Fifteen minutes," she warned under his breath.

"I can do this." I sniffled. My tears had given me an inspiration.

I stopped on the porch and took hold of her face in my hands. I looked fiercely into her eyes.

"I love you," I said in a low, intense voice. "I will always love you, no matter what happens now."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Bella," she said just as fiercely.

"Just follow the plan, okay? Keep Charlie safe for me. He's not going to like me very much after this, and I want to have the chance to apologize later."

"Get inside, Bella. We have to hurry." Her voice was urgent.

"One more thing," I whispered passionately. "Don't listen to another word I say tonight!" She was leaning in, and so all I had to do was stretch up on my toes to kiss her surprised, frozen lips with as much force as I was capable of. Then I turned and kicked the door open.

"Go away, Edythe!" I yelled at her, running inside and slamming the door shut in her still-shocked face.

"Bella?" Charlie had been hovering in the living room, and he was already on his feet.

"Leave me alone!" I screamed at him through my tears, which were flowing relentlessly now. I ran up the stairs to my room, throwing the door shut and locking it. I ran to my bed, flinging myself on the floor to retrieve my duffel bag. I reached swiftly between the mattress and box spring to grab the knotted old sock that contained my secret cash hoard.

Charlie was pounding on my door.

"Bella, are you okay? What's going on?" His voice was frightened.

"I'm going home," I shouted, my voice breaking in the perfect spot.

"Did she hurt you?" His tone edged toward anger.

"No!" I shrieked a few octaves higher. I turned to my dresser, and Edythe was already there, silently yanking out armfuls of random clothes, which she proceeded to throw to me.

"Did she break up with you?" Charlie was perplexed.

"No!" I yelled, slightly more breathless as I shoved everything into the bag. Edythe threw another drawer's contents at me. The bag was pretty much full now.

"What happened, Bella?" Charlie shouted through the door, pounding again.

"I broke up with her!" I shouted back, jerking on the zipper of my bag. Edythe's capable hands pushed mine away and zipped it smoothly. She put the strap carefully over my arm.

"I'll be in the truck — go!" she whispered, and pushed me toward the door. She vanished out the window.

I unlocked the door and pushed past Charlie roughly, struggling with my heavy bag as I ran down the stairs.

"What happened?" he yelled. He was right behind me. "I thought you liked her."

He caught my elbow in the kitchen. Though he was still bewildered, his grip was firm.

He spun me around to look at him, and I could see in his face that he had no intention of letting me leave.

I could think of only one way to escape, and it involved hurting him so much that I hated myself for even considering it. But I had no time, and I had to keep him safe.

I glared up at my father, fresh tears in my eyes for what I was about to do.

"I do like her — that's the problem. I can't do this anymore! I can't put down any more roots here! I don't want to end up trapped in this stupid, boring town like Mom! I'm not going to make the same dumb mistake she did. I hate it — I can't stay here another minute!"

His hand dropped from my arm like I'd electrocuted him. I turned away from his shocked, wounded face and headed for the door."Bells, you can't leave now. It's nighttime," he whispered behind me.

I didn't turn around. "I'll sleep in the truck if I get tired."

"Just wait another week," he pled, still shell-shocked. "Renée will be back by then." 

This completely derailed me. "What?"

Charlie continued eagerly, almost babbling with relief as I hesitated. "She called while you were out. Things aren't going so well in Florida, and if Phil doesn't get signed by the end of the week, they're going back to Arizona. The assistant coach of the Sidewinders said they might have a spot for another shortstop."

I shook my head, trying to reassemble my now-confused thoughts. Every passing second put Charlie in more danger.

"I have a key," I muttered, turning the knob. He was too close, one hand extended toward me, his face  
dazed. I couldn't lose any more time arguing with him. I was going to have to hurt him further.

"Just let me go, Charlie." I repeated my mother's last words as she'd walked out this same door so many years ago. I said them as angrily as I could manage, and I threw the door open. "It didn't work out, okay? I really, really hate Forks!"

My cruel words did their job — Charlie stayed frozen on the doorstep, stunned, while I ran into the night. I was hideously frightened of the empty yard. I ran wildly for the truck, visualizing a dark shadow behind me. I threw my bag in the bed and wrenched the door open. The key was waiting in the ignition.

"I'll call you tomorrow!" I yelled, wishing more than anything that I could explain everything to him right then, knowing I would never be able to. I gunned the engine and peeled out.  
Edythe reached for my hand.

"Pull over," she said as the house, and Charlie, disappeared behind us.

"I can drive," I said through the tears pouring down my cheeks. Her short hands unexpectedly gripped my waist, and her foot pushed mine off the gas pedal. She pulled me  
across her lap, wrenching my hands free of the wheel, and suddenly she was in the driver's seat. The truck didn't swerve an inch.

"You wouldn't be able to find the house," she explained.

Lights flared suddenly behind us. I stared out the back window, eyes wide with horror.

"It's just Alice," she reassured me. She took my hand again.

My mind was filled with the image of Charlie in the doorway. "The tracker?"

"He heard the end of your performance," Edythe said grimly.

"Charlie?" I asked in dread.

"The tracker followed us. He's running behind us now."

My body went cold.

"Can we outrun him?"

"No." But he sped up as he spoke. The truck's engine whined in protest. My plan suddenly didn't feel so brilliant anymore. I was staring back at Alice's headlights when the truck shuddered and a dark shadow sprung up outside the window. My bloodcurdling scream lasted a fraction of a second before Edythe's hand clamped down on my  
mouth.

"It's Emmett!"

She released my mouth, and wound her arm around my waist.

"It's okay, Bella," she promised. "You're going to be safe."

We raced through the quiet town toward the north highway.

"I didn't realize you were still so bored with small-town life," she said conversationally, and I knew she was trying to distract me. "It seemed like you were adjusting fairly well — especially recently. Maybe I was just flattering myself that I was making life more interesting for you."

"I wasn't being nice," I confessed, ignoring her attempt at diversion, looking down at my knees. "That was the same thing my mom said when she left him. You could say I was hitting below the belt."

"Don't worry. He'll forgive you." She smiled a little, though it didn't touch her eyes.

I stared at her desperately, and she saw the naked panic in my eyes.

"Bella, it's going to be all right."

"But it won't be all right when I'm not with you," I whispered.

"We'll be together again in a few days," she said, tightening her arm around me. "Don't forget that this was your idea."

"It was the best idea — of course it was mine."

Her answering smile was bleak and disappeared immediately.

"Why did this happen?" I asked, my voice catching. "Why me?"

She stared blackly at the road ahead. "It's my fault — I was a fool to expose you like that." The rage in her voice was directed internally.

"That's not what I meant," I insisted. "I was there, big deal. It didn't bother the other two. Why did this James decide to kill me. There's people all over the place, why me?"

She hesitated, thinking before she answered.

"I got a good look at his mind tonight," she began in a low voice. "I'm not sure if there's anything I could have done to avoid this, once he saw you. It is partially your fault." Her voice was wry. "If you didn't smell so appallingly luscious, he might not have bothered. But when I defended you… well, that made it a lot worse. He's not used to being thwarted, no matter how insignificant the object. He thinks of himself as a hunter and nothing else. His existence is consumed with tracking, and a challenge is all he asks of life.

Suddenly we've presented him with a beautiful challenge — a large clan of strong fighters all bent on protecting the one vulnerable element. You wouldn't believe how euphoric he is now. It's his favorite game, and we've just made it his most exciting game ever." Her tone was full of disgust.

She paused a moment.

"But if I had stood by, he would have killed you right then," she said with hopeless frustration.

"I thought… I didn't smell the same to the others… as I do to you," I said hesitantly.

"You don't. But that doesn't mean that you aren't still a temptation to every one of them. If you had appealed to the tracker — or any of them — the same way you appeal to me, it would have meant a fight right there."

I shuddered.

"I don't think I have any choice but to kill him now," she muttered. "Carlisle won't like it."

I could hear the tires cross the bridge, though I couldn't see the river in the dark. I knew we were getting close. I had to ask her now.

"How can you kill a vampire?"

She glanced at me with unreadable eyes and her voice was suddenly harsh. "The only way to be sure is to tear him to shreds, and then burn the pieces."

"And the other two will fight with him?"

"The woman will. I'm not sure about Laurent. They don't have a very strong bond — he's only with them for convenience. He was embarrassed by James in the meadow…"

"But James and the woman — they'll try to kill you?" I asked, my voice raw.

"Bella, don't you dare waste time worrying about me. Your only concern is keeping yourself safe and —please, please — trying not to be reckless."

"Is he still following?"

"Yes. He won't attack the house, though. Not tonight."

She turned off onto the invisible drive, with Alice following behind.

We drove right up to the house. The lights inside were bright, but they did little to alleviate the blackness of the encroaching forest. Emmett had my door open before the truck was stopped; he pulled me out of the seat, tucked me like a football into his vast chest, and ran me through the door. We burst into the large white room, Edythe and Alice at our sides. All of them were there; they were already on their feet at the sound of our approach. Laurent stood in their midst. I could hear low growls rumble deep in Emmett's throat as he set me down next to Edythe.

"He's tracking us," Edythe announced, glaring balefully at Laurent.

Laurent's face was unhappy. "I was afraid of that."

Alice danced to Jasper's side and whispered in his ear; her lips quivered with the speed of her silent speech. They flew up the stairs together. Rosalie watched them, and then moved quickly to Emmett's side. Her beautiful eyes were intense and — when they flickered unwillingly to my face — furious.

"What will he do?" Carlisle asked Laurent in chilling tones.

"I'm sorry," he answered. "I was afraid, when your boy there defended her, that it would set him off."

"Can you stop him?"

Laurent shook his head. "Nothing stops James when he gets started."

"We'll stop him," Emmett promised. There was no doubt what he meant.

"You can't bring him down. I've never seen anything like him in my three hundred years. He's absolutely lethal. That's why I joined his coven."

His coven, I thought, of course. The show of leadership in the clearing was merely that, a show.

Laurent was shaking his head. He glanced at me, perplexed, and back to Carlisle. "Are you sure it's worth it?"

Edythe's enraged roar filled the room; Laurent cringed back.

Carlisle looked gravely at Laurent. "I'm afraid you're going to have to make a choice."

Laurent understood. He deliberated for a moment. His eyes took in every face, and finally swept the bright room.

"I'm intrigued by the life you've created here. But I won't get in the middle of this. I bear none of you any enmity, but I won't go up against James. I think I will head north — to that clan in Denali." He hesitated.

"Don't underestimate James. He's got a brilliant mind and unparalleled senses. He's every bit as comfortable in the human world as you seem to be, and he won't come at you head on… I'm sorry for what's been unleashed here. Truly sorry." He bowed his head, but I saw him flicker another puzzled look at me.

"Go in peace," was Carlisle's formal answer.

Laurent took another long look around himself, and then he hurried out the door.

The silence lasted less than a second.

"How close?" Carlisle looked to Edythe.

Esme was already moving; her hand touched an inconspicuous keypad on the wall, and with a groan, huge metal shutters began sealing up the glass wall. I gaped.

"About three miles out past the river; he's circling around to meet up with the female."

"What's the plan?"

"We'll lead him off, and then Jasper and Alice will run her south."

"And then?"

Edythe's tone was deadly. "As soon as Bella is clear, we hunt him."

"I guess there's no other choice," Carlisle agreed, his face grim.

Edythe turned to Rosalie.

"Get her upstairs and trade clothes," Edythe commanded. She stared back at her with livid disbelief.

"Why should I?" she hissed. "What is she to me? Except a menace — a danger you've chosen to inflict on all of us."

I flinched back from the venom in her voice.

"Rose…" Emmett murmured, putting one hand on her shoulder. She shook it off.

But I was watching Edythe carefully, knowing her temper, worried about her reaction.

She surprised me. She looked away from Rosalie as if she hadn't spoken, as if she didn't exist.

"Esme?" he asked calmly.

"Of course," Esme murmured.

Esme was at my side in half a heartbeat, swinging me up easily into her arms, and dashing up the stairs before I could gasp in shock.

"What are we doing?" I asked breathlessly as she set me down in a dark room somewhere off the second-story hall.

"Trying to confuse the smell. It won't work for long, but it might help get you out." I could hear her clothes falling to the floor.

"I don't think I'll fit…" I hesitated, but her hands were abruptly pulling my shirt over my head. I quickly stripped my jeans off myself. She handed me something, it felt like a shirt. I struggled to get my arms through the right holes. As soon as I was done she handed me her slacks. I yanked them on, but I couldn't get my feet out; they were too long. She deftly rolled the hems a few times so I could stand.

Somehow she was already in my clothes. She pulled me back to the stairs, where Alice stood, a small leather bag in one hand. They each grabbed one of my elbows and half-carried me as they flew down the stairs.

It appeared that everything had been settled downstairs in our absence. Edythe and Emmett were ready to leave, Emmett carrying a heavy-looking backpack over his shoulder. Carlisle was handing something small to Esme. He turned and handed Alice the same thing — it was a tiny silver cell phone.

"Esme and Rosalie will be taking your truck, Bella," he told me as he passed. I nodded, glancing warily at Rosalie. She was glowering at Carlisle with a resentful expression.

"Alice, Jasper — take the Mercedes. You'll need the dark tint in the south."

They nodded as well.

"We're taking the Jeep."

I was surprised to see that Carlisle intended to go with Edythe. I realized suddenly, with a stab of fear, that they made up the hunting party.

"Alice," Carlisle asked, "will they take the bait?"

Everyone watched Alice as she closed her eyes and became incredibly still.

Finally her eyes opened. "He'll track you. The woman will follow the truck. We should be able to leave after that." Her voice was certain.

"Let's go." Carlisle began to walk toward the kitchen.

But Edythe was at my side at once. She caught me up in her iron grip, crushing me to her. She seemed unaware of her watching family as she pulled my face to hers, lifting my feet off the floor. For the shortest second, her lips were icy and hard against mine. Then it was over. She set me down, still holding my face, her glorious eyes burning into mine.

Her eyes went blank, curiously dead, as she turned away.

And they were gone.

We stood there, the others looking away from me as the tears streaked noiselessly down my face. The silent moment dragged on, and then Esme's phone vibrated in her hand. It flashed to her ear.

"Now," she said. Rosalie stalked out the front door without another glance in my direction, but Esme touched my cheek as she passed.

"Be safe." Her whisper lingered behind them as they slipped out the door. I heard my truck start thunderously, and then fade away.

Jasper and Alice waited. Alice's phone seemed to be at her ear before it buzzed.

"Edythe says the woman is on Esme's trail. I'll get the car." She vanished into the shadows the way Edythe had gone.

Jasper and I looked at each other. He stood across the length of the entryway from me… being careful.

"You're wrong, you know," he said quietly.

"What?" I gasped.

"I can feel what you're feeling now — and you are worth it."

"I'm not," I mumbled. "If anything happens to them, it will be for nothing."

"You're wrong," he repeated, smiling kindly at me.

I heard nothing, but then Alice stepped through the front door and came toward me with her arms held out.

"May I?" she asked.

"You're the first one to ask permission." I smiled wryly.

She lifted me in her slender arms as easily as Emmett had, shielding me protectively, and then we flew out the door, leaving the lights bright behind us.


	22. IMPATIENCE

When I woke up I was confused. My thoughts were hazy, still twisted up in dreams and nightmares; it took me longer than it should have to realize where I was.

This room was too bland to belong anywhere but in a hotel. The bedside lamps, bolted to the tables, were a dead giveaway, as were the long drapes made from the same fabric as the bedspread, and the generic watercolor prints on the walls.

I tried to remember how I got here, but nothing came at first.

I did remember the sleek black car, the glass in the windows darker than that on a limousine. The engine was almost silent, though we'd raced across the black freeways at more than twice the legal speed.

And I remembered Alice sitting with me on the dark leather backseat. Somehow, during the long night, my head had ended up against her granite neck. My closeness didn't seem to bother her at all, and her cool, hard skin was oddly comforting to me. The front of her thin cotton shirt was cold, damp with the tears that streamed from my eyes until, red and sore, they ran dry.

Sleep had evaded me; my aching eyes strained open even though the night finally ended and dawn broke over a low peak somewhere in California. The gray light, streaking across the cloudless sky, stung my eyes. But I couldn't close them; when I did, the images that flashed all too vividly, like still slides behind my lids, were unbearable. Charlie's broken expression — Eythe's brutal snarl, teeth bared — Rosalie's resentful glare — the keen-eyed scrutiny of the tracker — the dead look in Edythe's eyes after she kissed me the last time… I couldn't stand to see them. So I fought against my weariness and the sun rose higher.

I was still awake when we came through a shallow mountain pass and the sun, behind us now, reflected off the tiled rooftops of the Valley of the Sun. I didn't have enough emotion left to be surprised that we'd made a three-day journey in one. I stared blankly at the wide, flat expanse laid out in front of me.

Phoenix — the palm trees, the scrubby creosote, the haphazard lines of the intersecting freeways, the green swaths of golf courses and turquoise splotches of swimming pools, all submerged in a thin smog and embraced by the short, rocky ridges that weren't really big enough to be called mountains.

The shadows of the palm trees slanted across the freeway — defined, sharper than I remembered, paler than they should be. Nothing could hide in these shadows. The bright, open freeway seemed benign enough. But I felt no relief, no sense of homecoming.

"Which way to the airport, Bella?" Jasper had asked, and I flinched, though his voice was quite soft and un-alarming. It was the first sound, besides the purr of the car, to break the long night's silence.

"Stay on the I-ten," I'd answered automatically. "We'll pass right by it."

My brain had worked slowly through the fog of sleep deprivation.

"Are we flying somewhere?" I'd asked Alice.

"No, but it's better to be close, just in case."

I remembered beginning the loop around Sky Harbor International… but not ending it. I suppose that must have been when I'd fallen asleep.

Though, now that I'd chased the memories down, I did have a vague impression of leaving the car — the sun was just falling behind the horizon — my arm draped over Alice's shoulder and her arm firm around my waist, dragging me along as I stumbled through the warm, dry shadows.

I had no memory of this room.

I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. The red numbers claimed it was three o'clock, but they gave no indication if it was night or day. No edge of light escaped the thick curtains, but the room was bright with the light from the lamps.

I rose stiffly and staggered to the window, pulling back the drapes.

It was dark outside. Three in the morning, then. My room looked out on a deserted section of the freeway and the new long-term parking garage for the airport. It was slightly comforting to be able to pinpoint time and place.

I looked down at myself. I was still wearing Esme's clothes, and they didn't fit very well at all. I looked around the room, glad when I discovered my duffel bag on top of the low dresser.

I was on my way to find new clothes when a light tap on the door made me jump. 

"Can I come in?" Alice asked.

I took a deep breath. "Sure."

She walked in, and looked me over cautiously. "You look like you could sleep longer," she said.

I just shook my head.

She drifted silently to the curtains and closed them securely before turning back to me.

"We'll need to stay inside," she told me.

"Okay." My voice was hoarse; it cracked.

"Thirsty?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I'm okay. How about you?"

"Nothing unmanageable." She smiled. "I ordered some food for you, it's in the front room. Edythe reminded me that you have to eat a lot more frequently than we do."

I was instantly more alert. "She called?"

"No," she said, and watched as my face fell. "It was before we left."

She took my hand carefully and led me through the door into the living room of the hotel suite. I could hear a low buzz of voices coming from the TV. Jasper sat motionlessly at the desk in the corner, his eyes watching the news with no glimmer of interest.

I sat on the floor next to the coffee table, where a tray of food waited, and began swallowing it whole without noticing what I was eating. It was gone within only a few minutes. Maybe it wasn't just Forks. Maybe it was stress.

Alice perched on the arm of the sofa and stared blankly at the TV like Jasper.

It began to dawn on me that they were too still. They never looked away from the screen, though commercials were playing now. I pushed the tray away. Alice looked down at me.

"What's wrong, Alice?" I asked.

"Nothing's wrong." Her eyes were wide, honest… and I didn't trust them.

"What do we do now?"

"We wait for Carlisle to call."

"And should he have called by now?" I could see that I was near the mark. Alice's eyes flitted from mine to the phone on top of her leather bag and back.

"What does that mean?" My voice quavered, and I fought to control it. "That he hasn't called yet?"

"It just means that they don't have anything to tell us."

But her voice was too even, and the air was harder to breathe.

Jasper was suddenly beside Alice, closer to me than usual.

"Bella," he said in a suspiciously soothing voice. "You have nothing to worry about. You are completely safe here."

"I know that."

"Then why are you frightened?" he asked, confused. He might feel the tenor of my emotions, but he couldn't read the reasons behind them.

"You heard what Laurent said." My voice was just a whisper, but I was sure they could hear me. "He said James was lethal. What if something goes wrong, and they get separated? If something happens to any of them, Carlisle, Emmett… Edythe…" I gulped. "If that wild female hurts Esme…" My voice had grown higher, a note of hysteria beginning to rise in it. "How could I live with myself when it's my fault? None of you should be risking yourselves for me —"

"Bella, Bella, stop," he interrupted me, his words pouring out so quickly they were hard to understand.

"You're worrying about all the wrong things, Bella. Trust me on this — none of us are in jeopardy. You are under too much strain as it is; don't add to it with wholly unnecessary worries. Listen to me!" he ordered, for I had looked away. "Our family is strong. Our only fear is losing you."

"But why should you —" Alice interrupted this time, touching my cheek with her cold fingers. "It's been almost a century that Edythe's been alone. Now she's found you. You can't see the changes that we see, we who have been with her for so long. Do you think any of us want to look into her eyes for the next hundred years if she loses you?"

My guilt slowly subsided as I looked into her dark eyes. But, even as the calm spread over me, I knew I couldn't trust my feelings with Jasper there. It was a very long day.

We stayed in the room. Alice called down to the front desk and asked them to ignore our maid service for now. The windows stayed shut, the TV on, though no one watched it. At regular intervals, food was delivered for me. The silver phone resting on Alice's bag seemed to grow bigger as the hours passed.

My babysitters handled the suspense better than I did. As I fidgeted and paced, they simply grew more still, two statues whose eyes followed me imperceptibly as I moved. I occupied myself with memorizing the room; the striped pattern of the couches, tan, peach, cream, dull gold, and tan again. Sometimes I stared at the abstract prints, randomly finding pictures in the shapes, like I'd found pictures in the clouds as a child. I traced a blue hand, a woman combing her hair, a cat stretching. But when the pale red circle became a staring eye, I looked away.

As the afternoon wore on, I went back to bed, simply for something to do. I hoped that by myself in the dark, I could give in to the terrible fears that hovered on the edge of my consciousness, unable to break through under Jasper's careful supervision.

But Alice followed me casually, as if by some coincidence she had grown tired of the front room at the same time. I was beginning to wonder exactly what sort of instructions Edythe had given her. I lay across the bed, and she sat, legs folded, next to me. I ignored her at first, suddenly tired enough to sleep.

But after a few minutes, the panic that had held off in Jasper's presence began to make itself known. I gave up on the idea of sleep quickly then, curling up into a small ball, wrapping my arms around my legs.

"Alice?" I asked.

"Yes?"

I kept my voice very calm. "What do you think they're doing?"

"Carlisle wanted to lead the tracker as far north as possible, wait for him to get close, and then turn and ambush him. Esme and Rosalie were supposed to head west as long as they could keep the female behind them. If she turned around, they were to head back to Forks and keep an eye on your dad. So I imagine things are going well if they can't call. It means the tracker is close enough that they don't want him to overhear."

"And Esme?"

"I think she must be back in Forks. She won't call if there's any chance the female will overhear. I expect they're all just being very careful."

"Do you think they're safe, really?"

"Bella, how many times do we have to tell you that there's no danger to us?"

"Would you tell me the truth, though?"

"Yes. I will always tell you the truth." Her voice was earnest.

I deliberated for a moment, and decided she meant it.

"Tell me then… how do you become a vampire?"

My question caught her off guard. She was quiet. I rolled over to look at her, and her expression seemed ambivalent.

"Edythe doesn't want me to tell you that," she said firmly, but I sensed she didn't agree.

"That's not fair. I think I have a right to know."

"I know."

I looked at her, waiting.

She sighed. "She'll be extremely angry."

"It's none of her business. This is between you and me. Alice, as a friend, I'm begging you." And we were friends now, somehow — as she must have known we would be all along.

She looked at me with her splendid, wise eyes… choosing.

"I'll tell you the mechanics of it," she said finally, "but I don't remember it myself, and I've never done it or seen it done, so keep in mind that I can only tell you the theory."

I waited.

"As predators, we have a glut of weapons in our physical arsenal — much, much more than really necessary. The strength, the speed, the acute senses, not to mention those of us like Edythe, Jasper, and I, who have extra senses as well. And then, like a carnivorous flower, we are physically attractive to our prey."

I was very still, remembering how pointedly Edythe had demonstrated the same concept for me in the meadow.

She smiled a wide, ominous smile. "We have another fairly superfluous weapon. We're also venomous," she said, her teeth glistening. "The venom doesn't kill — it's merely incapacitating. It works slowly, spreading through the bloodstream, so that, once bitten, our prey is in too much physical pain to escape us. Mostly superfluous, as I said. If we're that close, the prey doesn't escape. Of course, there are always exceptions. Carlisle, for example."

"So… if the venom is left to spread…" I murmured.

"It takes a few days for the transformation to be complete, depending on how much venom is in the bloodstream, how close the venom enters to the heart. As long as the heart keeps beating, the poison spreads, healing, changing the body as it moves through it. Eventually the heart stops, and the conversion is finished. But all that time, every minute of it, a victim would be wishing for death."

I shivered.

"It's not pleasant, you see."

"Edythe said that it was very hard to do… I don't quite understand," I said.

"We're also like sharks in a way. Once we taste the blood, or even smell it for that matter, it becomes very hard to keep from feeding. Sometimes impossible. So you see, to actually bite someone, to taste the blood, it would begin the frenzy. It's difficult on both sides — the blood-lust on the one hand, the awful pain on the other."

"Why do you think you don't remember?"

"I don't know. For everyone else, the pain of transformation is the sharpest memory they have of their  
human life. I remember nothing of being human." Her voice was wistful. We lay silently, wrapped in our individual meditations.

The seconds ticked by, and I had almost forgotten her presence, I was so enveloped in my thoughts.

Then, without any warning, Alice leaped from the bed, landing lightly on her feet. My head jerked up as I stared at her, startled.

"Something's changed." Her voice was urgent, and she wasn't talking to me anymore.

She reached the door at the same time Jasper did. He had obviously heard our conversation and her sudden exclamation. He put his hands on her shoulders and guided her back to the bed, sitting her on the edge.

"What do you see?" he asked intently, staring into her eyes. Her eyes were focused on something very far away. I sat close to her, leaning in to catch her low, quick voice.

"I see a room. It's long, and there are mirrors everywhere. The floor is wooden. He's in the room, and he's waiting. There's gold… a gold stripe across the mirrors."

"Where is the room?"

"I don't know. Something is missing — another decision hasn't been made yet."

"How much time?"

"It's soon. He'll be in the mirror room today, or maybe tomorrow. It all depends. He's waiting for something. And he's in the dark now."

Jasper's voice was calm, methodical, as he questioned her in a practiced way. "What is he doing?"

"He's watching TV… no, he's running a VCR, in the dark, in another place."

"Can you see where he is?"

"No, it's too dark."

"And the mirror room, what else is there?"

"Just the mirrors, and the gold. It's a band, around the room. And there's a black table with a big stereo, and a TV. He's touching the VCR there, but he doesn't watch the way he does in the dark room. This is the room where he waits." Her eyes drifted, then focused on Jasper's face.

"There's nothing else?"

She shook her head. They looked at each other, motionless.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

Neither of them answered for a moment, then Jasper looked at me.

"It means the tracker's plans have changed. He's made a decision that will lead him to the mirror room, and the dark room."

"But we don't know where those rooms are?"

"No."

"But we do know that he won't be in the mountains north of Washington, being hunted. He'll elude them."

Alice's voice was bleak.

"Should we call?" I asked. They traded a serious look, undecided.

And the phone rang.

Alice was across the room before I could lift my head to look at it.

She pushed a button and held the phone to her ear, but she didn't speak first.

"Carlisle," she breathed. She didn't seem surprised or relieved, the way I felt.

"Yes," she said, glancing at me. She listened for a long moment.

"I just saw him." She described again the vision she'd seen. "Whatever made him get on that plane… it was leading him to those rooms." She paused. "Yes," Alice said into the phone, and then she spoke to me. "Bella?"

She held the phone out toward me. I ran to it.

"Hello?" I breathed.

"Bella," Edythe said.

"Oh, Edythe! I was so worried."

"Bella," she sighed in frustration, "I told you not to worry about anything but yourself." It was so unbelievably good to hear her voice. I felt the hovering cloud of despair lighten and drift back as she spoke.

"Where are you?"

"We're outside of Vancouver. Bella, I'm sorry — we lost him. He seems suspicious of us — he's careful to stay just far enough away that I can't hear what he's thinking. But he's gone now — it looks like he got on a plane. We think he's heading back to Forks to start over." I could hear Alice filling in Jasper behind me, her quick words blurring together into a humming noise.

"I know. Alice saw that he got away."

"You don't have to worry, though. He won't find anything to lead him to you. You just have to stay there and wait till we find him again."

"I'll be fine. Is Esme with Charlie?"

"Yes — the female has been in town. She went to the house, but while Charlie was at work. She hasn't gone near him, so don't be afraid. He's safe with Esme and Rosalie watching."

"What is she doing?"

"Probably trying to pick up the trail. She's been all through the town during the night. Rosalie traced her through the airport, all the roads around town, the school… she's digging, Bella, but there's nothing to find."

"And you're sure Charlie's safe?"

"Yes, Esme won't let him out of her sight. And we'll be there soon. If the tracker gets anywhere near Forks, we'll have him."

"I miss you," I whispered.

"I know, Bella. Believe me, I know. It's like you've taken half my self away with you."

"Come and get it, then," I challenged.

"Soon, as soon as I possibly can. I will make you safe first." Her voice was hard.

"I love you," I reminded her.

"Could you believe that, despite everything I've put you through, I love you, too?"

"Yes, I can, actually."

"I'll come for you soon."

"I'll be waiting."

As soon as the phone went dead, the cloud of depression began to creep over me again.

I turned to give the phone back to Alice and found her and Jasper bent over the table, where Alice was sketching on a piece of hotel stationery. I leaned on the back of the couch, looking over her shoulder.

She drew a room: long, rectangular, with a thinner, square section at the back. The wooden planks that made up the floor stretched lengthwise across the room. Down the walls were lines denoting the breaks in the mirrors. And then, wrapping around the walls, waist high, a long band. The band Alice said was gold.

"It's a ballet studio," I said, suddenly recognizing the familiar shapes.

They looked at me, surprised.

"Do you know this room?" Jasper's voice sounded calm, but there was an undercurrent of something I couldn't identify. Alice bent her head to her work, her hand flying across the page now, the shape of an emergency exit taking shape against the back wall, the stereo and TV on a low table by the front right corner.

"It looks like a place I used to go for dance lessons — when I was eight or nine. It was shaped just the same." I touched the page where the square section jutted out, narrowing the back part of the room.

"That's where the bathrooms were — the doors were through the other dance floor. But the stereo was here" — I pointed to the left corner — "it was older, and there wasn't a TV. There was a window in the waiting room — you would see the room from this perspective if you looked through it."

Alice and Jasper were staring at me.

"Are you sure it's the same room?" Jasper asked, still calm.

"No, not at all — I suppose most dance studios would look the same — the mirrors, the bar." I traced my finger along the ballet bar set against the mirrors. "It's just the shape that looked familiar." I touched the door, set in exactly the same place as the one I remembered.

"Would you have any reason to go there now?" Alice asked, breaking my reverie.

"No, I haven't been there in almost ten years. I was a terrible dancer — they always put me in the back for recitals," I admitted.

"So there's no way it could be connected with you?" Alice asked intently.

"No, I don't even think the same person owns it. I'm sure it's just another dance studio, somewhere."

"Where was the studio you went to?" Jasper asked in a casual voice.

"It was just around the corner from my mom's house. I used to walk there after school…" I said, my voice trailing off. I didn't miss the look they exchanged.

"Here in Phoenix, then?" His voice was still casual.

"Yes," I whispered. "Fifty-eighth Street and Cactus."

We all sat in silence, staring at the drawing.

"Alice, is that phone safe?"

"Yes," she reassured me. "The number would just trace back to Washington."

"Then I can use it to call my mom." 

"I thought she was in Florida."

"She is — but she's coming home soon, and she can't come back to that house while…" My voice trembled. I was thinking about something Edythe had said, about the red-haired female at Charlie's house, at the school, where my records would be.

"How will you reach her?"

"They don't have a permanent number except at the house — she's supposed to check her messages regularly."

"Jasper?" Alice asked.

He thought about it. "I don't think there's any way it could hurt — be sure you don't say where you are, of course."

I reached eagerly for the phone and dialed the familiar number. It rang four times, and then I heard my head hit the pillow.


	23. PHONE CALL

I could feel it was too early again when I woke, and I knew I was getting the schedule of my days and nights slowly reversed. I lay in my bed and listened to the quiet voices of Alice and Jasper in the other room. That they were loud enough for me to hear at all was strange. I rolled till my feet touched the floor and then staggered to the living room.

The clock on the TV said it was just after two in the morning. Alice and Jasper were sitting together on the sofa, Alice sketching again while Jasper looked over her shoulder. They didn't look up when I entered, too engrossed in Alice's work.

I crept to Jasper's side to peek.

"Did she see something more?" I asked him quietly.

"Yes. Something's brought him back to the room with the VCR, but it's light now."

I watched as Alice drew a square room with dark beams across its low ceiling. The walls were paneled in wood, a little too dark, out of date. The floor had a dark carpet with a pattern in it. There was a large window against the south wall, and an opening through the west wall led to the living room. One side of that entrance was stone — a large tan stone fireplace that was open to both rooms. The focus of the room from this perspective, the TV and VCR, balanced on a too-small wooden stand, were in the southwest corner of the room. An aged sectional sofa curved around in front of the TV, a round coffee table in front of it.

"The phone goes there," I whispered, pointing.

Two pairs of eternal eyes stared at me.

"That's my mother's house."

Alice was already off the couch, phone in hand, dialing. I stared at the precise rendering of my mother's family room. Uncharacteristically, Jasper slid closer to me. He lightly touched his hand to my shoulder, and the physical contact seemed to make his calming influence stronger. The panic stayed dull, unfocused.

Alice's lips were trembling with the speed of her words, the low buzzing impossible to decipher. I couldn't concentrate.

"Bella," Alice said. I looked at her numbly.

"Bella, Edythe is coming to get you. She and Emmett and Carlisle are going to take you somewhere, to hide you for a while."

"Edythe is coming?" The words were like a life vest, holding my head above the flood.

"Yes, she's catching the first flight out of Seattle. We'll meet her at the airport, and you'll leave with her."

"But, my mother… he came here for my mother, Alice!" Despite Jasper, the hysteria bubbled up in my voice.

"Jasper and I will stay till she's safe."

"I can't win, Alice. You can't guard everyone I know forever. Don't you see what he's doing? He's not tracking me at all. He'll find someone, he'll hurt someone I love… Alice, I can't —"

"We'll catch him, Bella," she assured me.

"And what if you get hurt, Alice? Do you think that's okay with me? Do you think it's only my human family he can hurt me with?"

Alice looked meaningfully at Jasper. A deep, heavy fog of lethargy washed over me, and my eyes closed without my permission. My mind struggled against the fog, realizing what was happening. I forced my eyes open and stood up, stepping away from Jasper's hand.

"I don't want to go back to sleep," I snapped.

I walked to my room and shut the door, slammed it really, so I could be free to go to pieces privately. This time Alice didn't follow me. For three and a half hours I stared at the wall, curled in a ball, rocking.

My mind went around in circles, trying to come up with some way out of this nightmare. There was no escape, no reprieve. I could see only one possible end looming darkly in my future. The only question was how many other people would be hurt before I reached it.

The only solace, the only hope I had left, was knowing that I would see Edythe soon. Maybe, if I could just see her face again, I would also be able to see the solution that eluded me now.

When the phone rang, I returned to the front room, a little ashamed of my behavior. I hoped I hadn't offended either of them, that they would know how grateful I was for the sacrifices they were making on my account.

Alice was talking as rapidly as ever, but what caught my attention was that, for the first time, Jasper was not in the room. I looked at the clock — it was five-thirty in the morning.

"They're just boarding their plane," Alice told me. "They'll land at nine-forty-five." Just a few more hours to keep breathing till she was here.

"Where's Jasper?"

"He went to check out."

"You aren't staying here?"

"No, we're relocating closer to your mother's house."

My stomach twisted uneasily at her words.

But the phone rang again, distracting me. She looked surprised, but I was already walking forward, reaching hopefully for the phone.

"Hello?" Alice asked. "No, she's right here." She held the phone out to me. Your mother, she mouthed.

"Hello?"

"Bella? Bella?" It was my mother's voice, in a familiar tone I had heard a thousand times in my childhood, anytime I'd gotten too close to the edge of the sidewalk or strayed out of her sight in a crowded place. It was the sound of panic.

I sighed. I'd been expecting this, though I'd tried to make my message as unalarming as possible without lessening the urgency of it.

"Calm down, Mom," I said in my most soothing voice, walking slowly away from Alice. I wasn't sure if I could lie as convincingly with her eyes on me. "Everything is fine, okay? Just give me a minute and I'll explain everything, I promise."

I paused, surprised that she hadn't interrupted me yet.

"Mom?"

"Be very careful not to say anything until I tell you to." The voice I heard now was as unfamiliar as it was unexpected. It was a man's tenor voice, a very pleasant, generic voice — the kind of voice that you heard in the background of luxury car commercials. He spoke very quickly.

"Now, I don't need to hurt your mother, so please do exactly as I say, and she'll be fine." He paused for a minute while I listened in mute horror. "That's very good," he congratulated. "Now repeat after me, and do try to sound natural. Please say, 'No, Mom, stay where you are.'"

"No, Mom, stay where you are." My voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I can see this is going to be difficult." The voice was amused, still light and friendly. "Why don't you walk into another room now so your face doesn't ruin everything? There's no reason for your mother to suffer.

As you're walking, please say, 'Mom, please listen to me.' Say it now."

"Mom, please listen to me," my voice pleaded. I walked very slowly to the bedroom, feeling Alice's worried stare on my back. I shut the door behind me, trying to think clearly through the terror that gripped my brain.

"There now, are you alone? Just answer yes or no."

"Yes."

"But they can still hear you, I'm sure."

"Yes."

"All right, then," the agreeable voice continued, "say, 'Mom, trust me.'"

"Mom, trust me."

"This worked out rather better than I expected. I was prepared to wait, but your mother arrived ahead of schedule. It's easier this way, isn't it? Less suspense, less anxiety for you."

I waited.

"Now I want you to listen very carefully. I'm going to need you to get away from your friends; do you think you can do that? Answer yes or no."

"No."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping you would be a little more creative than that. Do you think you could get away from them if your mother's life depended on it? Answer yes or no."

Somehow, there had to be a way. I remembered that we were going to the airport. Sky Harbor International Airport: crowded, confusingly laid out…

"Yes."

"That's better. I'm sure it won't be easy, but if I get the slightest hint that you have any company, well, that would be very bad for your mother," the friendly voice promised. "You must know enough about us by now to realize how quickly I would know if you tried to bring anyone along with you. And how little time I would need to deal with your mother if that was the case. Do you understand? Answer yes or no."

"Yes." My voice broke.

"Very good, Bella. Now this is what you have to do. I want you to go to your mother's house. Next to the phone there will be a number. Call it, and I'll tell you where to go from there." I already knew where I would go, and where this would end. But I would follow his instructions exactly. "Can you do that?

Answer yes or no."

"Yes."

"Before noon, please, Bella. I haven't got all day," he said politely.

"Where's Phil?" I asked tersely.

"Ah, be careful now, Bella. Wait until I ask you to speak, please."

I waited.

"It's important, now, that you don't make your friends suspicious when you go back to them. Tell them that your mother called, and that you talked her out of coming home for the time being. Now repeat after me, 'Thank you, Mom.' Say it now."

"Thank you, Mom." The tears were coming. I tried to fight them back.

"Say, 'I love you, Mom, I'll see you soon.' Say it now."

"I love you, Mom." My voice was thick. "I'll see you soon," I promised.

"Goodbye, Bella. I look forward to seeing you again." He hung up.

I held the phone to my ear. My joints were frozen with terror — I couldn't unbend my fingers to drop it.

I knew I had to think, but my head was filled with the sound of my mother's panic. Seconds ticked by while I fought for control.

Slowly, slowly, my thoughts started to break past that brick wall of pain. To plan. For I had no choices now but one: to go to the mirrored room and die. I had no guarantees, nothing to give to keep my mother alive. I could only hope that James would be satisfied with winning the game, that beating Edythe would be enough. Despair gripped me; there was no way to bargain, nothing I could offer or withhold that could influence him. But I still had no choice. I had to try.

I pushed the terror back as well as I could. My decision was made. It did no good to waste time agonizing over the outcome. I had to think clearly, because Alice and Jasper were waiting for me, and evading them was absolutely essential, and absolutely impossible.

I was suddenly grateful that Jasper was gone. If he had been here to feel my anguish in the last five minutes, how could I have kept them from being suspicious? I choked back the dread, the anxiety, tried to stifle it. I couldn't afford it now. I didn't know when he would return.

I concentrated on my escape. I had to hope that my familiarity with the airport would turn the odds in my favor. Somehow, I had to keep Alice away…

I knew Alice was in the other room waiting for me, curious. But I had to deal with one more thing in private, before Jasper was back.

I had to accept that I wouldn't see Edythe again, not even one last glimpse of her face to carry with me to the mirror room. I was going to hurt her, and I couldn't say goodbye. I let the waves of torture wash over me, have their way for a time. Then I pushed them back, too, and went to face Alice.

The only expression I could manage was a dull, dead look. I saw her alarm and I didn't wait for her to ask. I had just one script and I'd never manage improvisation now.

"My mom was worried, she wanted to come home. But it's okay, I convinced her to stay away." My voice was lifeless.

"We'll make sure she's fine, Bella, don't worry."

I turned away; I couldn't let her see my face.

My eye fell on a blank page of the hotel stationery on the desk. I went to it slowly, a plan forming.

There was an envelope there, too. That was good.

"Alice," I asked slowly, without turning, keeping my voice level. "If I write a letter for my mother, would you give it to her? Leave it at the house, I mean."

"Sure, Bella." Her voice was careful. She could see me coming apart at the seams. I had to keep my emotions under better control.

I went into the bedroom again, and knelt next to the little bedside table to write.

"Edythe," I wrote. My hand was shaking, the letters were hardly legible.

I love you. I am so sorry. He has my mom, and I have to try. I know it may not work. I am so very,  
very sorry.

Don't be angry with Alice and Jasper. If I get away from them it will be a miracle. Tell them thank  
you for me. Alice especially, please.

And please, please, don't come after him. That's what he wants. I think. I can't bear it if anyone  
has to be hurt because of me, especially you. Please, this is the only thing I can ask you now. For  
me.

I love you. Forgive me.  
Bella

I folded the letter carefully, and sealed it in the envelope. Eventually she would find it. I only hoped shevwould understand, and listen to me just this once.

And then I carefully sealed away my heart.


	24. HIDE-AND-SEEK

It had taken much less time than I'd thought — all the terror, the despair, the shattering of my heart. The minutes were ticking by more slowly than usual. Jasper still hadn't come back when I returned to Alice. I was afraid to be in the same room with her, afraid that she would guess… and afraid to hide from her for the same reason.

I would have thought I was far beyond the ability to be surprised, my thoughts tortured and unstable, but I was surprised when I saw Alice bent over the desk, gripping the edge with two hands.

"Alice?"

She didn't react when I called her name, but her head was slowly rocking side to side, and I saw her face. Her eyes were blank, dazed… My thoughts flew to my mother. Was I already too late?

I hurried to her side, reaching out automatically to touch her hand.

"Alice!" Jasper's voice whipped, and then he was right behind her, his hands curling over hers, loosening them from their grip on the table. Across the room, the door swung shut with a low click.

"What is it?" he demanded.

She turned her face away from me, into his chest. "Bella," she said.

"I'm right here," I replied.

Her head twisted around, her eyes locking on mine, their expression still strangely blank. I realized at once that she hadn't been speaking to me, she'd been answering Jasper's question.

"What did you see?" I said — and there was no question in my flat, uncaring voice.

Jasper looked at me sharply. I kept my expression vacant and waited. His eyes were confused as they flickered swiftly between Alice's face and mine, feeling the chaos… for I could guess what Alice had seen now.

I felt a tranquil atmosphere settle around me. I welcomed it, using it to keep my emotions disciplined, under control.

Alice, too, recovered herself.

"Nothing, really," she answered finally, her voice remarkably calm and convincing. "Just the same room as before."

She finally looked at me, her expression smooth and withdrawn. "Did you want breakfast?"

"No, I'll eat at the airport." I was very calm, too. She gave me a weird look. In our short time alone together she's learned enough of my eating habits to show a look of concern. I went to the bathroom to shower. Almost as if I were borrowing Jasper's strange extra sense, I could feel Alice's wild — though well-concealed — desperation to have me out of the room, to be alone with Jasper. So she could tell him that they were doing something wrong, that they were going to fail…

I got ready methodically, concentrating on each little task. I left my hair down, swirling around me, covering my face. The peaceful mood Jasper created worked its way through me and helped me think clearly. Helped me plan. I dug through my bag until I found my sock full of money. I emptied it into my pocket.

I was anxious to get to the airport, and glad when we left by seven. I sat alone this time in the back of the dark car. Alice leaned against the door, her face toward Jasper but, behind her sunglasses, shooting glances in my direction every few seconds.

"Alice?" I asked indifferently.

She was wary. "Yes?"

"How does it work? The things that you see?" I stared out the side window, and my voice sounded bored. "Edythe said it wasn't definite… that things change?" It was harder than I would have thought to say her name. That must have been what alerted Jasper, why a fresh wave of serenity filled the car.

"Yes, things change…" she murmured — hopefully, I thought. "Some things are more certain than others… like the weather. People are harder. I only see the course they're on while they're on it.  
Once they change their minds — make a new decision, no matter how small — the whole future shifts."

I nodded thoughtfully. "So you couldn't see James in Phoenix until he decided to come here."

"Yes," she agreed, wary again.

And she hadn't seen me in the mirror room with James until I'd made the decision to meet him there. I tried not to think about what else she might have seen. I didn't want my panic to make Jasper more suspicious. They would be watching me twice as carefully now, anyway, after Alice's vision. This was going to be impossible.

We got to the airport. Luck was with me, or maybe it was just good odds. Edythe's plane was landing in terminal four, the largest terminal, where most flights landed — so it wasn't surprising that hers was.

But it was the terminal I needed: the biggest, the most confusing. And there was a door on level three that might be the only chance.

We parked on the fourth floor of the huge garage. I led the way, for once more knowledgeable about my surroundings than they were. We took the elevator down to level three, where the passengers unloaded.

Alice and Jasper spent a long time looking at the departing flights board. I could hear them discussing the pros and cons of New York, Atlanta, Chicago. Places I'd never seen. And would never see.

I waited for my opportunity, impatient, unable to stop my toe from tapping. We sat in the long rows of chairs by the metal detectors, Jasper and Alice pretending to people-watch but really watching me.

Every inch I shifted in my seat was followed by a quick glance out of the corner of their eyes. It was hopeless.

Should I run? Would they dare to stop me physically in this public place? Or would they simply follow? I pulled the unmarked envelope out of my pocket and set it on top of Alice's black leather bag. She looked at me.

"My letter," I said. She nodded, tucking it under the top flap. She would find it soon enough.

The minutes passed and Edythe's arrival grew closer. It was amazing how every cell in my body seemed to know she was coming, to long for her coming. That made it very hard. I found myself trying to think of excuses to stay, to see her first and then make my escape. But I knew that was impossible if I was going to have any chance to get away.

Several times Alice offered to go get breakfast with me. Later, I told her, not yet. She most certainly knew at that point I wasn't okay because she could hear my stomach growl in protest.

I stared at the arrival board, watching as flight after flight arrived on time. The flight from Seattle crept closer to the top of the board.

And then, when I had only thirty minutes to make my escape, the numbers changed. Her plane was ten minutes early. I had no more time.

"I think I'll eat now," I said quickly.

Alice stood. "I'll come with you."

"Do you mind if Jasper comes instead?" I asked. "I'm feeling a little…" I didn't finish the sentence. My eyes were wild enough to convey what I didn't say.

Jasper stood up. Alice's eyes were confused, but — I saw to my relief— not suspicious. She must be attributing the change in her vision to some maneuver of the tracker's rather than a betrayal by me.

Jasper walked silently beside me, his hand on the small of my back, as if he were guiding me. I pretended a lack of interest in the first few airport cafes, my head scanning for what I really wanted. And there it was, around the corner, out of Alice's sharp sight: the level-three ladies' room.

"Do you mind?" I asked Jasper as we passed. "I'll just be a moment."

"I'll be right here," he said.

As soon as the door shut behind me, I was running. I remembered the time I had gotten lost from this bathroom, because it had two exits.

Outside the far door it was only a short sprint to the elevators, and if Jasper stayed where he said he would, I'd never be in his line of sight. I didn't look behind me as I ran. This was my only chance, and even if he saw me, I had to keep going. People stared, but I ignored them. Around the corner the elevators were waiting, and I dashed forward, throwing my hand between the closing doors of a full elevator headed down. I squeezed in beside the irritated passengers, and checked to make sure that the button for level one had been pushed. It was already lit, and the doors closed.

As soon as the door opened I was off again, to the sound of annoyed murmurs behind me. I slowed myself as I passed the security guards by the luggage carousels, only to break into a run again as the exit doors came into view. I had no way of knowing if Jasper was looking for me yet.

I would have only seconds if he was following my scent. I jumped out the automatic doors, nearly smacking into the glass when they opened too slowly.

Along the crowded curb there wasn't a cab in sight.

I had no time. Alice and Jasper were either about to realize I was gone, or they already had. They would find me in a heartbeat.

A shuttle to the Hyatt was just closing its doors a few feet behind me.

"Wait!" I called, running, waving at the driver.

"This is the shuttle to the Hyatt," the driver said in confusion as he opened the doors.

"Yes," I huffed, "that's where I'm going." I hurried up the steps.

He looked askance at my luggage-less state, but then shrugged, not caring enough to ask.

Most of the seats were empty. I sat as far from the other travelers as possible, and watched out the window as first the sidewalk, and then the airport, drifted away. I couldn't help imagining Edythe, where she would stand at the edge of the road when she found the end of my trail. I couldn't cry yet, I told myself.

I still had a long way to go.

My luck held. In front of the Hyatt, a tired-looking couple was getting their last suitcase out of the trunk of a cab. I jumped out of the shuttle and ran to the cab, sliding into the seat behind the driver. The tired couple and the shuttle driver stared at me.

I told the surprised cabbie my mother's address. "I need to get there as soon as possible."

"That's in Scottsdale," he complained.

I threw four twenties over the seat.

"Will that be enough?"

"Sure, kid, no problem."

I sat back against the seat, folding my arms across my lap. The familiar city began to rush around me, but I didn't look out the windows. I exerted myself to maintain control. I was determined not to lose myself at this point, now that my plan was successfully completed. There was no point in indulging in more terror, more anxiety. My path was set. I just had to follow it now.

So, instead of panicking, I closed my eyes and spent the twenty minutes' drive with Edythe.

I imagined that I had stayed at the airport to meet Edythe. I visualized how quickly, how gracefully she would move through the crowds of people separating us. And then I would run to close those last few feet between us — reckless as always — and I would be in her marble arms, finally safe.

I wondered where we would have gone. North somewhere, so she could be outside in the day. Or maybe somewhere very remote, so we could lay in the sun together again. I imagined her by the shore, her skin sparkling like the sea. It wouldn't matter how long we had to hide. To be trapped in a hotel room with her would be a kind of heaven. So many questions I still had for her. I could talk to her forever, never sleeping, never leaving her side.

I could see her face so clearly now… almost hear her voice. And, despite all the horror and hopelessness, I was fleetingly happy. So involved was I in my escapist daydreams, I lost all track of the seconds racing by.

"Hey, what was the number?"

The cabbie's question punctured my fantasy, letting all the colors run out of my lovely delusions. Fear, bleak and hard, was waiting to fill the empty space they left behind.

"Fifty-eight twenty-one." My voice sounded strangled. The cabbie looked at me, nervous that I was having an episode or something.

"Here we are, then." He was anxious to get me out of his car, probably hoping I wouldn't ask for my change.

"Thank you," I whispered. There was no need to be afraid, I reminded myself. The house was empty.

I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me, frightened, depending on me.

I ran to the door, reaching up automatically to grab the key under the eave. I unlocked the door. It was dark inside, empty, normal. I ran to the phone, turning on the kitchen light on my way. There, on the whiteboard, was a ten-digit number written in a small, neat hand. My fingers stumbled over the keypad, making mistakes. I had to hang up and start again. I concentrated only on the buttons this time, carefully pressing each one in turn. I was successful. I held the phone to my ear with a shaking hand. It rang only once.

"Hello, Bella," that easy voice answered. "That was very quick. I'm impressed."

"Is my mom all right?"

"She's perfectly fine. Don't worry, Bella, I have no quarrel with her. Unless you didn't come alone, of course." Light, amused.

"I'm alone." I'd never been more alone in my entire life.

"Very good. Now, do you know the ballet studio just around the corner from your home?"

"Yes. I know how to get there."

"Well, then, I'll see you very soon."

I hung up.

I ran from the room, through the door, out into the baking heat.

There was no time to look back at my house, and I didn't want to see it as it was now — empty, a symbol of fear instead of sanctuary. The last person to walk through those familiar rooms was my enemy.

From the corner of my eye, I could almost see my mother standing in the shade of the big eucalyptus tree where I'd played as a child. Or kneeling by the little plot of dirt around the mailbox, the cemetery of all the flowers she'd tried to grow. The memories were better than any reality I would see today. But I raced away from them, toward the corner, leaving everything behind me.

I felt so slow, like I was running through wet sand — I couldn't seem to get enough purchase from the concrete. But at last I made it to the corner. Just another street now; I ran, sweat pouring down my face, gasping. The sun was hot on my skin, too bright as it bounced off the white concrete and blinded me. I felt dangerously exposed. More fiercely than I would have dreamed I was capable of, I wished for the green, protective forests of Forks… of home. Crazy to think I would feel that way now considering how I felt when I first moved to live with Charlie in Forks. But I didn't remember feeling this hot ever in the sun despite my getting used to not being in it anymore. I felt off somehow. Not as brave as I had hoped I would be, but I was becoming angry. Angry that the monster holding my mother hostage was doing this to me. 

Of course I would save my mother, and then he would kill me. But I couldn't imagine the agony my death would be for the people I loved. The Cullens were my family too now despite how short a time we had together in my insignificant life. The angry burned stronger and stronger helping me move forward. Amazingly not falling once despite my fears of doing so.

When I rounded the last corner, onto Cactus, I could see the studio, looking just as I remembered it.

The parking lot in front was empty, the vertical blinds in all the windows drawn. I couldn't run anymore — I couldn't breathe; exertion and fear had gotten the best of me. I thought of my mother to keep my feet moving, one in front of the other. I was moving much faster than I thought I could move.

As I got closer, I could see the sign inside the door. It was handwritten on hot pink paper; it said the dance studio was closed for spring break. I touched the handle, tugged on it cautiously. It was unlocked. I fought to catch my breath, and opened the door.

The lobby was dark and empty, cool, the air conditioner thrumming. The plastic molded chairs were stacked along the walls, and the carpet smelled like shampoo. The west dance floor was dark, I could see through the open viewing window. The east dance floor, the bigger room, was lit. But the blinds were closed on the window.

Terror seized me so strongly that I was literally trapped by it. I couldn't make my feet move forward. I felt as if was going to start shaking but I tried to breath.

And then my mother's voice called.

"Bella? Bella?" That same tone of hysterical panic. I sprinted to the door, to the sound of her voice.

"Bella, you scared me! Don't you ever do that to me again!" Her voice continued as I ran into the long, high-ceilinged room.

I stared around me, trying to find where her voice was coming from. I heard her laugh, and I whirled to the sound.

There she was, on the TV screen, tousling my hair in relief. It was Thanksgiving, and I was twelve. We'd gone to see my grandmother in California, the last year before she died. We went to the beach one day, and I'd leaned too far over the edge of the pier. She'd seen my feet flailing, trying to reclaim my balance.

"Bella? Bella?" she'd called to me in fear.

And then the TV screen was blue.

I turned slowly. He was standing very still by the back exit, so still I hadn't noticed him at first. In his hand was a remote control. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then he smiled.

He walked toward me, quite close, and then passed me to put the remote down next to the VCR. I turned carefully to watch him.

"Sorry about that, Bella, but isn't it better that your mother didn't really have to be involved in all this?"

His voice was courteous, kind.

And suddenly it hit me. My mother was safe. She was still in Florida. She'd never gotten my message.

She'd never been terrified by the dark red eyes in the abnormally pale face before me. She was safe. I was beyond angry I began shaking aggressively.

"Yes," I answered, my voice shaking with my body.

"You don't sound angry that I tricked you."

"I'm not." My sudden high made me brave. What did it matter now? It would soon be over. Charlie and Mom would never be harmed, would never have to fear. I felt almost giddy. Some analytical part of my mind warned me that I was dangerously close to snapping from the stress. I felt like I was snapping like the walls were closing in on me. It was getting very hot despite the strong air conditioning in the room.

"How odd. You really mean it." His dark eyes assessed me with interest. The irises were nearly black, just a hint of ruby around the edges. Thirsty. "I will give your strange coven this much, you humans can be quite interesting. I guess I can see the draw of observing you. It's amazing — some of you seem to have no sense of your own self-interest at all."

He was standing a few feet away from me, arms folded, looking at me curiously. There was no menace in his face or stance. He was so very average-looking, nothing remarkable about his face or body at all.

Just the white skin, the circled eyes I'd grown so used to. He wore a pale blue, long-sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans.

"I suppose you're going to tell me that your girlfriend will avenge you?" he asked, hopefully it seemed to me.

"No, I don't think so. At least, I asked her not to."

"And what was her reply to that?"

"I don't know." It was strangely easy to converse with this genteel hunter. "I left her a letter."

"How romantic, a last letter. And do you think she will honor it?" His voice was just a little harder now, a hint of sarcasm marring his polite tone.

"I hope so."

"Hmmm. Well, our hopes differ then. You see, this was all just a little too easy, too quick. To be quite honest, I'm disappointed. I expected a much greater challenge. And, after all, I only needed a little luck."

I waited in silence shaking violently and it took me everything I had to remain standing. I felt like I was being burned alive.

"When Victoria couldn't get to your father, I had her find out more about you. There was no sense in running all over the planet chasing you down when I could comfortably wait for you in a place of my choosing. So, after I talked to Victoria, I decided to come to Phoenix to pay your mother a visit. I'd heard you say you were going home. At first, I never dreamed you meant it. But then I wondered. Humans can be very predictable; they like to be somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. And wouldn't it be the perfect ploy, to go to the last place you should be when you're hiding — the place that you said you'd be.

"But of course I wasn't sure, it was just a hunch. I usually get a feeling about the prey that I'm hunting, a sixth sense, if you will. I listened to your message when I got to your mother's house, but of course I couldn't be sure where you'd called from. It was very useful to have your number, but you could have been in Antarctica for all I knew, and the game wouldn't work unless you were close by.

"Then your girlfriend got on a plane to Phoenix. Victoria was monitoring them for me, naturally; in a game with this many players, I couldn't be working alone. And so they told me what I'd hoped, that you were here after all. I was prepared; I'd already been through your charming home movies. And then it was simply a matter of the bluff.

"Very easy, you know, not really up to my standards. So, you see, I'm hoping you're wrong about your  
girlfriend. Edythe, isn't it?"

I didn't answer. The bravado was wearing off. I sensed that he was coming to the end of his gloat. It wasn't meant for me anyway. There was no glory in beating me, a weak human.

"Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of my own for your Edythe?"

He took a step back and touched a palm-sized digital video camera balanced carefully on top of the stereo. A small red light indicated that it was already running. He adjusted it a few times, widened the frame. I stared at him in horror.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't think she'll be able to resist hunting me after she watches this. And I wouldn't want her to miss anything. It was all for her, of course. You're simply a human, who unfortunately was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and indisputably running with the wrong crowd, I might add."

He stepped toward me, smiling. "Before we begin…"

I felt a curl of nausea in the pit of my stomach as he spoke. This was something I had not anticipated.

"I would just like to rub it in, just a little bit. The answer was there all along, and I was so afraid Edythe would see that and ruin my fun. It happened once, oh, ages ago. The one and only time my prey escaped me.

"You see, the vampire who was so stupidly fond of this little victim made the choice that your Edythe was too weak to make. When the old one knew I was after his little friend, he stole her from the asylum where he worked — I never will understand the obsession some vampires seem to form with you humans — and as soon as he freed her he made her safe. She didn't even seem to notice the pain, poor little creature. She'd been stuck in that black hole of a cell for so long. A hundred years earlier and she would have been burned at the stake for her visions. In the nineteen-twenties it was the asylum and the shock treatments. When she opened her eyes, strong with her fresh youth, it was like she'd never seen the sun before. The old vampire made her a strong new vampire, and there was no reason for me to touch her then." He sighed. "I destroyed the old one in vengeance."

"Alice," I breathed, astonished.

"Yes, your little friend. I was surprised to see her in the clearing. So I guess her coven ought to be able to derive some comfort from this experience. I get you, but they get her. The one victim who escaped me, quite an honor, actually.

"And she did smell so delicious. I still regret that I never got to taste… She smelled even better than you do. Sorry — I don't mean to be offensive. You have a very nice smell. Floral, somehow…"

He took another step toward me, till he was just inches away. He lifted a lock of my hair and sniffed at it delicately. Then he gently patted the strand back into place, and I felt his cool fingertips against my throat. He reached up to stroke my cheek once quickly with his thumb, his face curious. I wanted so badly to run, but I was frozen the shaking stopped. I couldn't even flinch away.

"No," he murmured to himself as he dropped his hand, "I don't understand." He sighed. "Well, I suppose we should get on with it. And then I can call your friends and tell them where to find you, and my little message."

I was definitely sick now. There was pain coming, I could see it in his eyes. It wouldn't be enough for him to win, to feed and go. There would be no quick end like I'd been counting on. My knees began to shake, and I was afraid I was going to fall again.

He stepped back, and began to circle, casually, as if he were trying to get a better view of a statue in a museum. His face was still open and friendly as he decided where to start.

Then he slumped forward, into a crouch I recognized, and his pleasant smile slowly widened, grew, till it wasn't a smile at all but a contortion of teeth, exposed and glistening.

I couldn't help myself— I tried to run. As useless as I knew it would be, as weak as my knees already were, panic took over and I bolted for the emergency door shaking.

He was in front of me in a flash. I didn't see if he used his hand or his foot, it was too fast. A crushing blow struck my chest — I felt myself flying backward, and then heard the crunch as my head bashed into the mirrors. The glass buckled, some of the pieces shattering and splintering on the floor beside me.

I was too stunned to feel the pain. I couldn't breathe yet. The burning became worse and I was very angry as I felt the wetness near my head. Until my shaking became worse and uncontrollable. 

He walked toward me slowly and gasped looking at his prey. And then I saw fear in his eyes. 

I exploded. I felt the heat rise even more and all I saw was red. I saw the monster that threatened me and my loved ones. I heard a loud noise that did not come from my predator. It came from me, but it sounded strange. Foreign even. Like a growl from an angry bear.

His eyes wide with terror snapped out of it realizing what happened. Despite the look in his eye that he was still amazed at what he was seeing. 

"Even more interesting!" He gave a round of applause. "I don't know what you are, but I'm still going to kill you just the same." 

"Would you like to rethink your last request?" he asked pleasantly. 

"Wouldn't you rather have Edythe try to find me?" he prompted.

I snarled again instincts taking over. I didn't know what was happening to me. But I was to angry to be afraid. HE WOULD NOT HURT MY EDYTHE! I lunged at him only to have him wrap his arms around me quite easily. He gripped my side and I heard a large crack which I assumed was my bones on my white front leg. Wait my front leg? As I looked down at my legs in front of me as I lay there now dying from the blood leaving my skull, after the heat of the transformation of what I have become. 

Over the pain of my leg, I felt the sharp rip across my scalp where the glass cut into it. And then the  
warm wetness began to spread through my fur with alarming speed? I could hear it dripping on the wood below. The smell of it twisted my stomach. But not as much as the terribly sweet smell that burned my nose. That was not coming from my blood.

Through the nausea and dizziness I saw something that gave me a sudden, final shred of hope. His eyes,merely intent before, now burned with an uncontrollable need. The blood — spreading crimson pooling rapidly on the floor — was driving him mad with thirst. No matter his original intentions, he couldn't draw this out much longer.

Let it be quick now, was all I could hope as the flow of blood from my head sucked my consciousness away with it. My eyes were closing.

I heard, as if from underwater, the final growl of the hunter. I could see, through the long tunnels my eyes had become, his dark shape coming toward me. With my last effort, my white instinctively raised to try and push him away. My eyes closed, and I drifted.


	25. THE ANGEL

As I drifted, I dreamed. Where I floated, under the dark water, I heard the happiest sound my mind could conjure up — as beautiful, as uplifting, as it was ghastly. It was another snarl; a deeper, wilder roar that rang with fury.

I was brought back, almost to the surface, by a sharp pain slashing my upraised paw? But I couldn't find my way back far enough to open my eyes.

And then I knew I was dead.

Because, through the heavy water, I heard the sound of an angel calling my name, calling me to the only heaven I wanted.

"Oh no, Bella, no!" the angel's voice cried in horror.

Behind that longed-for sound was another noise — an awful tumult that my mind shied away from. A vicious bass growling, a shocking snapping sound, and a high keening, suddenly breaking off…

I tried to concentrate on the angel's voice instead.

"Bella, please! Bella, listen to me, please, please, Bella, please!" she begged.

Yes, I wanted to say. Anything. But I couldn't say anything.

"Carlisle!" the angel called, agony in his perfect voice. "Bella, Bella, no, oh please, no, no! What happened to her! This can't be true!" And the angel was sobbing tearless, broken sobs.

The angel shouldn't weep, it was wrong. I tried to find her, to tell her everything was fine, but the water was so deep, it was pressing on me, and I couldn't breathe.

There was a point of pressure against my head. It hurt. Then, as that pain broke through the darkness to me, other pains came, stronger pains. I cried out, gasping, breaking through the dark pool but instead the sound was a whimper.

"Bella!" the angel cried.

"She's lost some blood, but the head wound isn't deep," a calm voice informed me. "Watch out for her leg, it's broken. I've seen her kind before. They heal fast. She will be fine so long as we let her body do what it needs to after the bones are put back into place."

A howl of rage strangled on the angel's lips.

I felt a sharp stab in my side. This couldn't be heaven, could it? There was too much pain for that.

"Some ribs, too, I think," the methodical voice continued.

But the sharp pains were fading. There was a new pain, a scalding pain on leg that was overshadowing everything else.

Someone was burning me.

I whimpered to tell her, but I had no voice. 

"Bella, you're going to be fine. Can you hear me, Bella? I love you."

I felt my body shrink back to my normal size and despite lying there naked on the ground I wasn't cold. But I still felt pain, but the bleeding had stopped in my head.

"Edythe," I tried again. My voice finally came.

"Yes, I'm here."

"It hurts," I whimpered.

"I know, Bella, I know" — and then, away from me, anguished — "can't you do anything?"

"My bag, please… Hold your breath, Alice, it will help," Carlisle promised.

"Alice?" I groaned.

"She's here, she knew where to find you."

"My arm hurts," I tried to tell him.

"I know, Bella. Carlisle will give you something, it will stop."

"My arm is burning!" I screamed, finally breaking through the last of the darkness, my eyes fluttering open. I couldn't see her face, something dark and warm was clouding my eyes. Why couldn't they see the fire and put it out?

Her voice was frightened. "Bella?"

"The fire! Someone stop the fire!" I screamed as it burned me.

"Carlisle! Her arm!"

"He bit her." Carlisle's voice was no longer calm, it was appalled.

I heard Edythe catch her breath in horror.

"Eythe, you can't change her. I don't see her future anymore. She's going to..." It was Alice's voice that broke into a tear-less sob, close by my head. Cool fingers brushed at the wetness in my eyes.

"No!" she bellowed.

"Alice," I moaned.

"There may be a chance," Carlisle said.

"What?" Edythe begged.

"See if you can suck the venom back out. The wound is fairly clean." As Carlisle spoke, I could feel more pressure on my head, something poking and pulling at my scalp. The pain of it was lost in the pain of the fire. 

"Will that work?" Alice's voice was strained.

"I don't know," Carlisle said. "But we have to hurry."

"Carlisle, I…" Edythe hesitated. "I don't know if I can do that." There was agony in her beautiful voice again.

"It's your decision, Edythe, either way. I can't help you. I have to get this bleeding stopped here if you're going to be taking blood from her arm."

I writhed in the grip of the fiery torture, the movement making the pain in my leg flare sickeningly.

"Edythe!" I screamed. I realized my eyes were closed again. I opened them, desperate to find her face.

And I found her. Finally, I could see her perfect face, staring at me, twisted into a mask of indecision and pain.

"Alice, get me something to brace her leg!" Carlisle was bent over me, and remarked how fast my head had healed. "Edythe, you must do it now, or it will be too late her arm is going to heal too soon for you to pierce her skin. The venom can't change her it will kill her."

Edythe's face was drawn. I watched her eyes as the doubt was suddenly replaced with a blazing determination. Her jaw tightened. I felt her cool, strong fingers on my burning arm, locking it in place.

Then her head bent over it, and her cold lips pressed against my skin.

At first the pain was worse. I screamed and thrashed against the cool hands that held me back. I heard Alice's voice, trying to calm me. Something heavy held my leg to the floor, and Carlisle had my head locked in the vise of his stone arms.

Then, slowly, my writhing calmed as my hand grew more and more numb. The fire was dulling, focusing into an ever-smaller point.

I felt my consciousness slipping as the pain subsided. I was afraid to fall into the black waters again, afraid I would lose her in the darkness.

"Edythe," I tried to say, but I couldn't hear my voice. They could hear me.

"She's right here, Bella."

"Stay, Edythe, stay with me…"

"I will." Her voice was strained, but somehow triumphant.

I sighed contentedly. The fire was gone, the other pains dulled by a sleepiness seeping through my body.

"Is it all out?" Carlisle asked from somewhere far away.

"Her blood tastes clean," Edythe said quietly. "I can taste the morphine. And her arm is almost healed. I can't believe this!"

"Bella?" Carlisle called to me.

I tried to answer. "Mmmmm?"

"Is the fire gone?"

"Yes," I sighed. "Thank you, Edythe."

"I love you," she answered.

"I know," I breathed, so tired.

I heard my favorite sound in the world: Edythe's quiet laugh, weak with relief.

"Bella?" Carlisle asked again.

I frowned; I wanted to sleep. "What?"

"Where is your mother?"

"In Florida," I sighed. "He tricked me, Edythe. He watched our videos." The outrage in my voice was pitifully frail.

But that reminded me.

"Alice." I tried to open my eyes. "Alice, the video — he knew you, Alice, he knew where you came from." I meant to speak urgently, but my voice was feeble. "I smell gasoline," I added, surprised through the haze in my brain.

"It's time to move her," Carlisle said.

"No, I want to sleep," I complained.

"You can sleep, sweetheart, I'll carry you," Edythe soothed me.

And I was in her arms, cradled against her chest — floating, all the pain gone.

"Sleep now, Bella" were the last words I heard.


	26. CHANGE

I woke up in a car, but I was still drowsy with sleep.

The fire in my arm was gone- the worst thing I'd ever felt up to that point. Second to whatever happened to me during the entire thing. It didn't seem real. I wasn't me anymore. And my nose burned at sickeningly sweet smell surrounding me. It made me feel sick even. 

I was wrapped in a blanket still naked. I had no idea where we were going. But I didn't care I was so tired. 

I heard Alice telling Edythe that she still couldn't see my future and was alarmed. Neither seemed to know what that meant. Maybe I was going to die.

I remember at one point I noticed the smell got easier to deal with though. And I smelled Edythe which was strange. I was in her lap curled up and she was stroking my hair. I heard Edythe say we needed to get me into some new clothes.

I felt like in my slumber I was underwater and it was hard to pay attention to what was happening outside of it. Sometimes Carlisle would say something and it would feel like a year had passed before Alice answered him, but it was probably the water that made the seconds into years.

And then someone carried me. I saw the sun for another year-long second- it looked pale and cool. Then everything was dark. It was dark for a long time.

I could still smell Edythe. She was holing me in her arms, my face near hers, one of her hands on my burning cheek. Alice was nearby too. I think she had my legs. I wanted to wake up but I was too tired I couldn't win the battle.

She apologized to me over and over again, and I didn't know why. I couldn't find my lips to answer her in my slumber. I broke my heart to hear her in pain.

When I finally woke up and my eyes actually focused, I could see dim lights moving across Edythe's face, though all around her head it was black. Aside from her voice and mine, the only sound was a deep, constant thrumming. Sometimes it got louder, and then it was quiet again.

I didn't realize I was back in the black car until it stopped. I didn't hear the door open, but the sudden flash of light was blinding. I must have recoiled from it, because Edythe crooned in my ear.

"We're just stopping to refill the gas tank. We'll be home soon, Bella. You're going to be okay. I'm going to help you. I am so sorry."

I felt her hand against my face- it was cold but it felt good against my burning skin. I tried to reach for it, but I couldn't exactly tell what my arm did. Edythe guessed what I wanted. She grabbed my hand and held it to her lips. I wished I could feel it. I don't think she let go.

It got darker. It was black as ink inside the car- but I could still see everything. I was confused. I fell back asleep content knowing I wasn't alone but wishing I could stay awake.

Edythe's voice was in my ear again. "I'm right here Bella. You're not alone in this. I won't leave you. I'm not afraid. Things will be different now, but we'll make them work."

Her voice was calming to me. I was still so tired, but my body was beginning to feel normal again.

"I never wanted this for you, Bella." Edythe continued. "I would give anything to take this away. I've made so many mistakes. I don't know what caused this to happen, but I will help you. Carlisle is doing as much research as he can. We all are. But you'll be safe with me now. I won't let anything hurt you. You're strong enough now to where I won't have to be as careful with you. But I still will be. You're more durable than before, but I still won't be too careful." It sounded like she was sobbing again.

"No," I tried to say but I don't know if I said it aloud in my exhaustion.

"I still can't see her future," Alice sobbed. "I don't understand how she's alive, but maybe I can't see something." Edythe continued to play with my hair. 

"I hope so," Edythe said, her voice breaking.

"I don't know what we're going to do. You can't change her or she'll die. That's all we know about werewolves."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

When Edythe answered, it was like she was spitting the words through her teeth. "I will never give up on her. No matter what she is. She is still my Bella."

"We're going to need help," Alice chirped in, "We know who can help her. But they won't want us to be with her anymore. I've never met them but do you think they'll take her in."

It was quiet while she turned in to whatever Alice was seeing inside her head. Though I understood the silence, it still left wondering what the hell was happening.

"I'm here, Bella, I'm here. Don't be afraid." She took a deep breath. "We have so much to discuss and figure out. I don't know what this means for you, but we'll figure it out together. But there is one good thing, Bella. I can be close to you without wanting you so badly anymore. Something has changed. You don't smell the same. I mean enough for me to still enjoy your smell but it's different now. It's like whatever you are produces some sort of um... odor. It kinds smells like a wet dog, but I like it. At least on you. It suites you. Floral and musky smelling. The musky part is new. It used to hurt so much to smell you and now it's so much easier. The Quiluets can help us learn. I know they have packs, but you don't have to join theirs. I mean you can if you want. But you could be a part of our coven and it could be like your pack. You're strong enough to be with us. Not that we weren't going to try with you still human, but again. Things are different now. I still can't wrap my head around it. I don't think you share their blood. But who knows. I didn't even know females could turn. But we've been gone from Forks for such a long time. I just remember males being in their packs." She laughed once, a damaged little sound. "If you want to live with us, it will be hard though. I don't know how dangerous you'll be when you transform. You won't have to worry about hurting any of us, but I worry about the humans. Again, there is so much for us to learn, but we'll learn together. They can live among the humans I know in their tribes so hopefully you can too. There are options. Whatever you want. If... if you don't want me with you, I'll understand that, too, Bella. I swear I won't follow you if you tell me not to-"

"No," I gasped. I heard myself that time, so I knew I'd done it right.

"You don't have to make anymore decisions now. There's time for that. Just know that I will respect any decision you make." She took another deep breath. "I knew you was different than the other humans. Something was happening to you. I just thought that was you though. I mean I can't read your mind. I thought you just did odd things. It was fasinating to me, but I should have known.

"I don't know if you can see your father or mother again. We'll have to assess you and make sure you're safe to be with them. But if it's better for you to now we'll help you with that. I will. There are rules with vampires, and I'm not sure what this will mean for you living with us if that happens. Or we continue as us. If you can't become one since you're a werewolf, you should probably still know the rules. You weren't created I think you was born this way. But I'll take responsibility for you." Her breathe caught. "There so much she doesn't know Alice."

"We've got time, Edythe. Just relax, take it slow."

I heard her inhale again.

"The rules," she said. "One rule with a thousand different permutaitons- the reality of vampires must be kept secret. It's probably the same for werewolves. I don't think the world would react much different to that. You aren't a newborn vampire, but we'll figure out how to help you learn to keep control. To not hurt anybody you could hurt. I'll keep you safe, I promise." Another sigh "And you probably shouldn't tell anyone what you are. I broke the rule. I didn't think it could hurt you- that anyone would ever find out. I should have known that just being near you would eventually destroy you. Who knows maybe I have something to do with what happened to you. I should have known I would ruin your life- that I was lying to myself about any other path being possible. I've done everything wrong-"

"You're letting self-castigation get in the way of information again, Edythe."

"Right, right." A deep breath. "Bella. Do you remember the painting in Carlisle's study- the nighttime patrons of the arts I told you about? They're called the Volturi- they are... for the lack of a better word, the police of our world. I'm not sure what they would think about werewolves. I'll tell you more about them in a bit- you just need to know that they exist, so that I can explain why you can't tell Charlie or your mother where you are. Until we know it's safe. I'm guessing it would be similar for werewolves too. You can't talk to them again, Bella, until we figure out what to do." Her voice was straining higher, like it was about to fracture. "I don't know what to expect your relationship to the outside world will be, with your old life."

There was a long pause while I could hear her breath hitching.

"Why don't you go back to the Volturi?" Alice suggested. "Keep emotion out of it."

"You're right," she repeated in a whisper. "Ready to learn a new world history, Bella."

She talked all night without a break as I rested to weak to contribute. I was healing I guess from my wounds. I'm guessing while I was asleep Carlisle set my bones back into place. That would explain the amount of pain I had when I woke up again. She told me stories that sounded like dark fairy tales. I was beginning to grasp the edges of how big this world was, but I knew it would be a long time before I totally comprehended the size of it.

She told me about the people I'd seen in the painting with Carlisle- the Volturi. How they'd joined forces during the Mycenaean age, and begun a millennia-long campaign to create peace and order in the vampire world. How there had been six of them in the beginning and now there was only three at the head, and their forces. 

I listened as much as I could. Edythe said the Volturi were the ones who'd made up all the stories about crosses and holy water and mirrors. Over the centuries, they made all reports of vampires into myth. And now they continued to keep it that way. Vampires would stay in the shadows... or there would be consequences.

Edythe moved on quickly- telling me about their friends in Canada who lived the same way. Five of the Cullen's closest family. She told me that two of them had extra powers- something electrical and then to know the talents of every vampire they met. 

She told me how the Cullens lived- how they moved from cloudy place to cloudy place. Emmett would restore the house for them. Alice would invest their assets with amazingly good returns. They would decide on a story to explain their relationships to each other, and Jasper would create new names and documented past for each of them. Carlisle would take a job in a hospital with his new credentials, or he'd return to school to study a new field. If the location looked promising, the younger Cullens would pretend to be even younger than they were so they could stay longer.

Edythe let me rest. I was too tired to know where we were or what was going on around us. But apparently I was okay, and I was healing. I would live so it seemed. Despite Alice no longer being able to see my future. Eventually, when it was starting to get dark again, our journey was over. Edythe carried me into the house like a child, and sat with me in the big room. The background behind her face went from black to white. I didn't think it was just the light.

I one point I heard in the background that Alice was watching the video that James created at the dance studio. I wondered what I looked like when I transformed into a werewolf.

It seemed like I was on the couch, my head in Edythe's lap, for several years as I continued to heal. The lights stayed bright, so I didn't know if it was night or day. 

Eventually, I noticed I could hear things as I became more and more alert. Carlisle walked into the room, and the amazing part about that was that I heard him. Edythe and her family never made any noise when they moved. But now if I listened, I could hear the low sound of Carlisle's lips brushing together as he spoke.

I stared up at Edythe's face. She was more beautiful than she had ever been, and I guess that was because now as a werewolf I was able to see her better than I ever had. And then something inside of me changed. 

Eyes, the color of butterscotch.

I felt a new kind of heat—not a burning in my body. Not like when I had transform previously.

It was a glowing.

Everything inside me came undone as I stared at porcelain face of the vampire, girl. All the lines that held me to my life were sliced apart in swift cuts, like clipping the strings to a bunch of balloons. Everything that made me who I was—my love mother, my love for my father, my loyalty to Cullens, my hatred for my enemies, my home, my name, my self—disconnected from me in that second—snip, snip, snip—and floated up into space.

I was not left drifting. A new string held me where I was.

Not one string, but a million. Not strings, but steel cables. A million steel cables all tying me to one thing—to the very center of the universe.

I could see that now—how the universe swirled around this one point. I’d never seen the symmetry of the universe before, but now it was plain.

The gravity of the earth no longer tied me to the place where I stood.

It was the girl holding me.

Edythe.

I stared up at Edythe in wonder. I felt like I'd taken off a blindfold I'd been wearing all my life. What a view.

"Bella?" she asked. Now that I could really concentrate on it, the beauty of her voice was unreal.

"Are you okay?"

Could you get used to hearing a voice like this? Seeing a face like that?

"Edythe," I said. Unnerved, I reached out to touch her cheek. She leaned into my touch, put her hand into mine, and held it against her face. It was strange because it was familiar- I'd always loved it when she'd done that, to see that she so obviously liked it when I touched her that way, that it meant something to her. But it was also nothing the same. Her face was still cold, but my hand felt right against mine hot and cold in perfect harmony. 

"So I'm a werewolf?" I said, not asking her. Just trying to wrap my head around it.

"Yes, like the Quilute's tribe we came across years ago. We made a treaty with them." 

"But I'm not one of them."

"I don't know, but I don't think so. Do you have any blood there?"

"No," I didn't know why I was this way. Like a freak. 

"We could always talk to the tribe, and see what they tell us."

"You still want me? Jules said that werewolves were enemies to vampires."

"Well do you think I'm your enemy?" She laughed. "Or any of us?"

"No."

"Well I still love you. We all still look at you the same. Just a bit more durable. A little more smelly." She laughed some more. "But I like it."

"I mean research is good. I want to be able to go home to Charlie. Clean things up. I want to keep my normal life. But I also want to be with you." I said too quickly.

Then we heard a howl outside.


	27. DECISIONS

Edythe looked at me in concern. "I think we have visitors." 

"Who is it?" I asked already knowing what she was going to say.

"Werewolves." And my stomach dropped knowing that I was going to meet more creatures. Was anything really sane? And I was one of them.

We got up from the couch hand in hand and the rest of the Cullen followed me as a united front.

"I hope they don't want any trouble," Alice said.

"We can take them!" Emmett said excited. 

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Carlisle said silencing any more comments.

Despite being a supernatural creature myself the Cullen made a circle around me like they did in the clearing when we encounter James, Laurent, and Victoria. The howling grew longer, and we stood their waiting.

"Edythe," Carlisle broke the silence, "can you translate?"

Edythe nodded, and no sooner they arrived. 

Coming from the break of the woods was three horse-sized wolves. Was I that large? The one in the lead- pitch-black and larger than either of the others, though they were both three times bigger than I'd ever dreamed a wolf could get- took a step forward, his teeth bared.

"Sam," Edythe said sharply. The wolf's head swung around to face her. "You have no right to be here. We haven't broken the treaty."

The black monster-wolf snarled at her.

I was trying very hard to keep calm, and not let the heat take over. But how dare he growl at her! I lunged forward hopping off the porch and transformed mid-flight. I was then just as tall as the wolves in front of us. I snarled my teeth in warning to not harm what was mine. I was suddenly possesive of Edythe, worried that the large wolf might hurt her.

"They didn't attack," Carlisle said to Edythe. "I don't know what they want."

"They were looking for Bella who has gone missing. They were concerned we changed her, or killed her." Edythe explained reading their thoughts.

I stood next to Edythe growling. Flecks of saliva dripped from my exposed fangs. Edythe patted my side. "It's okay Bella. They're not going to hurt me."

The wolf was taken aback.

"They don't understand how they can't hear her."

"Hear her?" Carlisle asked.

"The wolves in the pack can hear each other's thoughts. Like literally all of them. Like I can but just with each other. They're confused as to why Bella is one of them. Or how this could happen."

Carlisle took a step forward. "We recently just witness her first transformation a few days ago. There was a danger, and we had to take Bella away to keep her and Chief Swan safe. There was three others like us, but they live differently than we do. They wanted Bella, so we took her to Pheonix to hide. But their leader found her their. We were trying to draw them away from anyone they could do harm through Bella. We took turns protecting Chief Swan, and do what we could to kill them. The leader tried to kill her, but before she could Bella transformed. But not before she was bitten. Dying Edythe sucked the venom out. And saved Bella's life. She had a lot of injuries, but I imagine as you already know you all heal fast. We've been keeping her safe. But now we're trying to figure out what to do to help her. We were considering trying to talk to you. 

The black wolf seemed to ponder for a minute. "She will need help to learn how to control her shifts. There is much to learn. We can take her in and help her. Then she will be able to be with her family again." Edythe spoke for her.

Edythe chipped in. "I can take responsibility for her. If she wants to stay with us. If you could just tell us what you already know so that we can help her."

The black wolf began growling again.

Edythe spoke for the pack. "They don't trust us with her. They want her to go with them. I say we let Bella decide." Then everyone looked at me. I didn't know how to shift back. I didn't even know how I shifted in the first place. So I couldn't answer. 

"I can't read Bella's mind either." Then Edythe looked at me. "You aren't connected to their pack link. Since they can't hear you either." 

I stood next to Edythe panting. Confused on what to do.

Carlisle walked carefully next to me. "I believe Bella might be able to better make her decision when she can tell us."

Sam nodded, "Listen Bella, think about something that makes you happy and imagine walking on two legs." Edythe spoke for him. I did as he said and appeared naked on the ground.

"Great," I muttered in my birthday suite.

Everyone laughed and I even think the wolves woofed in a chuckling kind of way.

Once human again with what little dignity I had left I stood up stark naked in front of everyone. "Sam," I said, "I don't know what to do. I don't want to hurt Charlie, or my mother."

"We will help you learn, and if you're interested we can figure out a way for you to join our pack. We'll talk to the elders and figure out what to do."

Edythe looked at me, "I can't go with you. It's against the treaty." She sighed. I could tell the whole enemy thing between the my vampire family which I guess I can say after everything that's happened and the werewolves will be interesting. Edythe didn't like the idea of me going alone. Or being alone with them. 

"I really don't think I want to join your pack though Sam. I mean I'm one of you, but I'm not."

"Take all the time you need, Bella. But I must warn you that without training you could be dangerous with the humans." Edythe spoke for Sam.

Carlisle, "We can take responsiblity for her, Sam. We could set up a meeting and you can tell us how to help her."

"Bella, you will come with us. Do not stay with them. I am alpha, and I demand you follow me." Edythe spoke for Sam again, and she snarled at him. I could feel the power of the alpha though and my body wanted to bow down. But I fought to stay standing. Even though I was in human form."

"I will not join you, now I recommend you leave." I stood beside the Cullens, and they pushed me behind them in a protective circle.

I could hear the other two wolves behind Sam snarling.

"Leave in peace, Sam." Carlisle said.

With a final huff, the giant monster wolves left. 

I looked at the Cullens. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm so thankful for saving my life, and protecting my parents. And standing by me today. I don't have to stay."

Edythe looked at me, "Bella, we're in this. You, me, and your wolf."

Carlisle stepped in, "Bella, you're with Edythe now. That makes you a part of this family. And we protect your family. Human, vampire, or werewolf." 

And I could see even Rosalie pondering.

"You will stay with us then, until we figure out how to help you learn control. I'm interested in learning about your kind." Carlisle said with a smile.

Edythe took my hand and we all walked in the house.


	28. EPILOGUE: AN OCCASION

Edythe took my hand and we walked out into the backyard of the Cullen's home. It was beautiful I must admit, surrounded by wilderness. Alice convinced the Cullens to recreate prom in the backyard with lots of over the top decorations, and tables with unnecessary food. Unnecessary because I'm the only one who eats. There loud music playing in the background. 

Edythe had just finished putting flowers she'd pinned into my elaborately styled curls. She ignored the angry set of my mouth.

When she had led me to the middle of the the over the top elaborate dance floor Alice created, she looked at me and smiled, "Did I mention you look very nice tonight."

I blushed, and she continued to grin and stroked my cheek. "I'm so happy you smell like a wet dog."

I stuck my tongue out at her, and laughed with her. It was great to see her so happy. To see it was easier for us to be together. She threw a mocking smile in my direction, and my breath caught in my throat. Would I ever get used to her perfection? I'd never seen her in black before, other than in my dream. With the contrast to her pale skin, her beauty was absolutely surreal. That much I couldn't deny, even if the reasoning for her to wear a dress made me nervous. 

Not quite as nervous as my dress though. I was in stiletto heels, held on only by satin ribbons, certainly wasn't going to help me as I tried to hobble around. I was much less clumsy now that I had joined the supernatural world as a werewolf, because I guess normal is over rated now. But I was still paranoid by my humiliating past. 

"I'll start staying outside if Alice is going to treat me like a Guinea Pig Barbie when I come in," I griped. I'd spent the better part of the day in Alice's staggeringly vast bathroom, a helpless victim as she played hairdresser and cosmetician. Whenever I fidgeted or complained, she reminded me that she didn't have any memories of being human, and asked me not to ruin her vicarious fun. Despite I kept reminding her I wasn't completely human, and she kept reminding me I was still more human than her. Then she'd dress me in the most ridiculous dress- deep blue, frilly and off the shoulders, with French tags I couldn't read- a dress more suitable for a runway than Forks. 

I was distracted then by the sound of a phone ringing. Edythe unclipped her cell-phone from her heel on her left foot, looking briefly at the caller ID before answering. I had no idea how Cullens pulled it off, but Charlie had no idea that I was them for his safety. Charlie reported me as a missing teenager, and as much as that hurt me to put him through that I could never forgive myself if I hurt him not having my transformations under control. He still called Edythe every now and then to see if she had heard from me.

"No Charlie", Edythe said attempting to soothe my scared Father who for all he knew I could have been dead, "I haven't heard from her, but I'll keep a look out." I heard with my more sensative ears now that Charlie hung up the phone in frustration.

I must have looked pretty sad because Edythe kissed my cheek, and whispered in my ear, "You did the right thing."

I still felt guilty, but where else would I go, I couldn't trust the Quilutes, but I did trust Edythe and her family. Carlisle ran just about every test possible on me in one of their spare rooms that he pretty much turned into a mini hospital. We learned that my normal body temperature was 108 degrees much higher than the average humans at 98 degrees, and much much higher than a vampires temperature. I'm able to withstand the cold weather and to not over heat. In reality I should have burned the Cullens just by them touching me, but my abilities continued to persist past not being able to hear my thoughts. It wasn't just Edythe, it was the werewolves too in their tiny pack that could hear each and every thought. My healing is very fast compared to a vampire who doesn't even have to heal they just never bleed or get hurt. When they are destroyed they are ripped apart like stone and burned to pieces. Me I was still human enough to get hurt, but it seemed that my body was done changing. Carlisle said he knew of a previous chief who lived for three life times before he finally quit phasing and became mortal. 

This meant that so long as I kept phasing I could stay with Edythe forever. Maybe not the way I wanted originally as a vampire, but I would still be here. I hated what I was though. It seemed like nothing left was sane. I mean vampires, werewolves, it's hard telling what else there is out there. I became easily angered more since I have phased, and learning to change to and from was very difficult. There was about three days when after Charlie reported me missing that I was so upset I couldn't become human again. I couldn't speak in wolf form, and Edythe couldn't read my mind. But Edythe and Alice took turns sitting with me outside, talking to me and explaining that everything was going to be okay.

So I guess after a few weeks Alice decided I shouldn't miss my prom just because of what happened. So along with her family they threw a tiny dance in the back yard for me much to my dismay. I hated how much time and effort they put into me. I felt bad as a human let alone as some human type wolf monster. My wolf form wasn't something that I could get used to. I was solid white and almost as tall as the werewolves that visited us not too long ago after I came back from Phionix. I was a little smaller than them, but I was as white as snow. With a very long and shaggy coat. If I cut my hair it might have been easier to handle, but it was hard to let even that much of a change happen. I kept phasing at random times I got upset. I was hormonal and I almost got a hold of Jasper who very simply pushed me off and held me down until Edythe talked me down. He wasn't even mad, or Alice. Rosalie was just tired of smelling wet dog. It was getting easier though to continue. To live with Edythe and her family, and soon I'd be able to come home and we'd create a cover story for that.

Standing in front of Edythe I tried to slowly breathe. "What's wrong Bella." Edythe said stroking my face trying to help me breath like we talked about. 

"I'm trying not to be mad I'm so sorry." I tried to slow down my shaking, and then she was kissing my neck. 

"Does this help," she smiled peppering me with kisses and my heart beat slowed down, along with my body's shaking. "When someone wants to kill you, you're brave as a lion- and then when someone mentions dancing..." She shook her head.

I gulped. Dancing. Despite my new reflexes I did not trust myself.

"Bella, I won't let anything hurt you- not even yourself." She winked at me knowing I wouldn't need her help, but gave it to me anyways leading our dance. "I won't let go of you once, I promise."

I thought about that and suddenly felt much better. She could see that in my face.

"There, now," she said gently, "it won't be so bad." She leaned down and wrapped one arm around my waist. I took her other hand and we continued to walk out to the dance floor..

She kept her arm tightly around me. I looked at the dance floor; Emmett and Jasper were intimidating and flawless in classic tuxedos. Alice was striking in a black satin dress with geometric cutouts that bared large triangles of her snowy white skin. And Rosalie was... well, Rosalie. She was beyond belief. Her vivid scarlet dress was backless, tight to her calves where it flared into a wide ruffed train, with a neckline that plunged to her waist. I pitied any girl to compare herself to her including me. 

Eventually she towed me out to where her family was twirling elegantly- if in a style totally unsuitable to the present time and music. I watched in horror. 

"Edythe." My throat was so dry. I could only manage a whisper. "I honestly can't dance!" I could feel the panic bubbling up inside my chest.

"Don't worry, silly," she whispered. "I can," She put her arms around her neck and lifted me to slide my her feet under mine.

And then we were whirling, too.

"I feel like I'm five years old," I laughed after a few minutes of effortless waltzing.

"You don't look five," she murmured, pulling me closer for a second, so that my feet were briefly a foot from the ground.

Alice caught my eye on a turn and smiled in encouragement- I smiled back. I was surprised to realize that I was actually enjoying myself... a little.

"Okay, this isn't half bad," I admitted.

But Edythe was staring angrily toward the front of the house where a car pulled into the driveway. Which looked like Billy's vehicle. 

"What is it?" I wondered aloud. I followed her gaze, disoriented by the spinning, but finally I could see what was bothering her. Julie Black. After the first shock of recognition, I couldn't help but feel bad for Julie. 

Edythe snarled very quietly.

"Behave!" I hissed.

Edythe's voice was scathing. "She want's to talk to me."

No sooner I ran at full speed into the woods and the hid behind a tree, grabbing my shoes so I could run easier barefoot. Julie reached the backyard, the embarrassment and apology even more evident on her face.

"Hello, Edythe," Julie started, "I'm Julie Black."

Edythe nodded at her.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but my dad paid me twenty bucks to come talk to you?" she admitted, slightly ashamed.

"Yes, I can," Edythe muttered. "So why did Billy pay you to come here?"

Julie looked away, uncomfortable again. "He said it was important that I talk to you," and both Edythe and I could hear the circling of wolves in the back trees trespassing probably to protect her in case someone might hurt her. "I swear the old man is losing his mind. Anyway, he said that if I told you something he would get me a master cylinder for my car I'm building." She confessed with a sheepish grin.

"Tell, me what it is then." She said with an intimadating glare. It was not safe for her to be here near me so out of practice. Not that the Cullens would let me hurt her on accident, or the wolf pack Julie didn't know about surrounding us to protect her. 

"Don't get mad, okay? Well- this is so stupid, I'm sorry, Edythe- he wants you to break up with Bella. He asked me to tell you 'please'." She shook her head again in disgust.

"Well, I haven't seen or heard from Bella in a long time, so no need to worry you can tell him." 

"He said to tell you, no, to warn you, that- and this is his plural, not mine"- she her hands up and made little quoatation marks in the air- "We'll be watching." She watched warily for my reaction."

It sounded like something from a mafia movie. She laughed out loud at Jules. "We'll okay then. Consider me warned."

Then with a last awkward smile, Julie headed back to her car. Long after we knew she was far away and that her "protectors" we gone. I headed back to Edythe in the dance floor. I saw that the other Cullens allowed us some privacy outside. As soon as we were alone, she swung me up into her arms, and carried me to a chair beneath the shadow of the madrone trees. She sat there, keeping me cradled up against her chest. The moon was already up, visible through the gauzy white light. Her mouth was hard, her eyes troubled.

"The point?" I prompted softly. Why would the Quilutes sends someone who wasn't transformed to look for me. It was obvious Julie thought I would be here.

She ignored me, staring up at the moon.

"Half-Light, again." she murmured. "Another ending. No matter how perfect the day is, it always comes to end."

"Some things don't have to end," I muttered through my teeth, instantly tense.

She sighed.

"I brought you to our homemade prom," she said slowly, finally answering my question, "because I don't want you to miss anything. I don't want my presence or what you've become to take anything away from you, if I can help it. I want you to be human. I want your life to continue as it would have if I'd died in nineteen-eighteen like I should have."

I shuddered at her words, and then shook my head angrily. "In what strange parallel dimension would I ever have gone to prom of my own free will? If you weren't possibly stronger than me, I would have never let you get away with this."

She smiled briefly, but it didn't touch her eyes. "It wasn't so bad, you said so yourself."

"That's because I was with you."

We were quiet for a minute; she stared at the moon and I stared at her. I wished there was some way to explain how very uninterested I was in a normal human life."

"Will you tell me something?" she asked, glancing down at me with a slight dimpled smile.

"Don't I always?"

"Just promise you'll tell me," she insisted grinning.

I knew I was going to regret this almost instantly. "Fine."

"You seemed honestly surprised when you figured out that I was taking you our homemade prom," she began.

"I was," I interjected.

"Exactly," she agreed. "But you must have had some other theory... I'm curious-what did you think I was dressing you up for?"

Yes, instant regret. I pursed my lips, hesitating. "I don't want to tell you."

"You promised," she objected.

"I know."

"What the problem?"

I knew she thought it was a mere embarrassment holding me back. "I think it will make you mad- or sad."

Her brows pulled together over her eyes as she thought through. "I still want to know. Please?"

I sighed. She waited.

"Well... I assumed it was just a joke. Treating me one last time before you took me to them." 

She looked confused.

"They want me to be one of them."

Understanding entered her eyes.

"Bella, you should be allowed to have your choice. You shouldn't have to listen to someone give you orders like that, or change your life just because of what you are now. They want to protect people, from vampires. I don't like the idea of you doing that. You could get hurt."

"I mean I probably could take it. If someone tried to hurt you."

"The sooner we help you control your phasing the sooner you can go back to your human life." She gave a sad smile. "Why did you choose to stay with me?"

"I love you. I don't think even vampires should be hunted until they give us a reason too. I mean James tried to kill me, so I understand. But even if there are few like you and your family doesn't mean others don't exist. I think they deserve a chance to live among humans too in peace."

Edythe smiled. "I love you too, Bella." 

"So we don't have to worry about the enemies thing, or the human thing?" I asked her sadly.

"Bella." Her fingers lightly traced the shape of my lips. "I will stay with you- isn't that enough. You don't want this trust me. Imortality. I would give anything to be mortal again, and you have a chance. "I will stay with you- isn't that enough?"

I smiled under her fingertips. "Enough for now."

She frowned at my tenacity. No one was going to surrender tonight. She exhaled, and the sound was practically a growl.

I touched her face. "Look," I said. "I love you more than everything else in the world combined. Isn't that enough?" I want to spend forever with you. I don't want to grow old if you aren't.

"Yes, it is enough," she answered, smiling. "Enough for forever."

And she leaned down to press her cold lips once more to my throat.


End file.
